Original Sin
by jojogirl
Summary: What unsettled Lucas the most was how much he missed her. And with the way things were now there was no chance that feeling would ever go away. BL future fic.
1. The Things That Never Were

**Author's note:** This has been a baby of mine for quite a while. It's a B/L future fic. It's pretty canon based up until what we know from the show but then it's totally my own imagination run wild. There have been a lot of people who helped me with this. They talked to me when this story was still untold and just forming in my head. They urged me on, the inspired me with their fangirl ways. A lot of these people are on the B/L thread on Writer's 911. You know who you guys are. You make me laugh and you make me love this couple even more and all your crazyness really inspired me to write more or even get started. Thank you all.

Thank you to **Ella** who talked to me on msn about this for hours and made figure out where to go.

Thank you for **Sarah** for just being crazy Sarah. You gush with me when I need it and I LURVE the way your mind works. Tehe!

Thank you **Cari** for starting the "Adopt an Author" thing. If you hadn't done that I wouldn't have been taken under the wings of the awesome Tej.

Thank you **Tej**. This really couldn't have worked without your help and support. You always listened to my rants and made me see where I could do better and you told me I didn't suck lol. We are on the same page about fic and that's awesome and you have this way about you when you make me realize my mistakes on my own and you urge me to go further and really expand and grow. This is to you.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own One Tree Hill. Or any of the characters that you know and love. I'd love to but I don't.

_Flashbacks are in Italics_. Oh and you might be confused and shocked at some points. But that's totally intentional.  
If you could let me know what you think, good and bad, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Reviews are love.

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**Original Sin**  
A story by Jo

**"The doctrine of original sin claims that all men sinned in Adam; but whether they did or whether it is merely a fact that all men sin does not basically affect the problem of suffering."**

**_Walter Kaufmann_**

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**"An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin"**

**_Thomas Campbell_**

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**1. The Things That Never Were**

_Tree Hill, North Carolina. September 2020_

"Lucas." Karen called her son softly. Although she had been better the last week, now she was in bed again. She was just so tired all the time. It broke Lucas' heart to see her like this. So _fragile_.

All his life Karen Roe had been a strong woman. Never one to back down. Even after Keith's death, she had picked herself up again.

He sighed heavily. That day had changed all of their lives. It had separated some, like his parents, like him and Brooke, and then it had brought people closer. _Like him and Peyton._

One thing however, had remained constant in his life: His mother.

In her son's eyes she had always been invincible, which made it even harder to watch her fade away.

His back was facing her and he kept solemnly staring out of the window.

"Lucas, you have to make a decision."

He did not move. "I made my decision a long time ago. I married Peyton."

"I didn't mean that. I mean you got to make up your mind about your life." He turned around, his face a mask of anger and hurt.

"What is this? First Peyton and now you? What do you _want_ from me? I stood in front of all these people and I swore to love her and to honor our family. And I meant it. I've done it! I've kept my freaking promise all those years, haven't I?"

With effort she sat up in the bed. The way her raven colored hair stuck to her forehead from lying in bed too long tore at his heart. He felt a reflex to lean in and brush those strands away, like one would do for a child.

She reached for his hand and he flinched at the touch. Her fingers were cold but Lucas found the grip oddly strong and comforting; even though her health was deteriorating, there was still some life in Karen Roe.

"And I'm proud of you for that Lucas. I'm proud of you for being a good father to Ellie and being there for Peyton and loving them both. For being the man Keith taught you to be." She swallowed and took a deep breath, as if getting out what she wanted to say was taking effort. "But maybe you promised her something you couldn't keep…"

_The music started to play and Brooke took a deep breath, smoothed the skirt of her long, elegant gown and started to walk down the aisle. The small church had been tastefully decorated and now every single pair of eyes was rested on the strikingly beautiful young woman making her way down the pews._

"_Hold your head up high," was what Karen had told her. And she did. _

_There was one pair of eyes though. One pair of eyes she had sworn to avoid at all cost and it was the exact pair of eyes she felt herself falling into. He stood in the front, clad in a black tux and looked heartbreakingly handsome. _

_It was like the wedding Brooke Davis had dreamed of since she had been a little girl. The wedding she and Peyton had fantasized in those years where everything had been simple and innocent. The years before love had come to get them and torn them apart. _

_It was all there. Down to ridiculous details like the myriad of little white freesias against the dark wood of the benches and the old and out of tune organ playing the traditional wedding march. (She had always hated roses and Brooke was all for tradition. At least at when it came to weddings.) _

_And up in the front, Mr. Perfect stood waiting for his bride._

_She realized he was staring at her and he knew she knew it too. _

_For a second it seemed all like a dream. Everything fell into slow motion, the noise drowned, and it was as if they were the only two people in the world. _

_Two souls aching to be one. _

_Brooke thought that maybe, if she just kept staring into his eyes, just as long as she could lose herself in them, everything else would go disappear. _

_But that thought was childish. And happiness was a deception._

_Although she had promised herself not to play 'what if' anymore she couldn't help but think how it would be if he really was waiting for _her_. And she wondered if her face even remotely reflected how she felt inside. _

_Like dying. _

_He could not help but stare. Maybe it was uncalled for, maybe it was wrong, but he couldn't help it. She was staggeringly beautiful. For a moment, he imagined how it would be if it _was_ her, walking up the aisle to say yes to him. To say yes to the life they had talked about sharing one day. He could still recall the moment when he had told her he would love her forever, never intending to let her go - he had meant his every word._

_Now that seemed like a lifetime away. So much had happened since then. _

_The voice in his head, the small voice that he had been trying to ignore for weeks, kept getting louder. It was almost mocking him. "Lucas Scott," it said, "you're a fraud." _

"I _love_ Peyton."

He did. He had made a vow to her that day and Lucas Scott was a guy that stuck to his promises.

"I know you do. But what about Brooke?" He averted her eyes. "You're still running."

She brought her hand to his cheek forcing him to look into her steely gaze. His face was drained but it was as if her eyes were even brighter than usual, making a last effort to outlast themselves. They shone out of their hollows like a dying star -multiplying its light, turning into a supernova as some sort of last bravado before fading eventually.

"I know you never wanted to be like Dan. But if you are living a lie, Lucas… and I'm not saying you are, but _if, _Lucas, then you're more like him than you think." He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. Her voice was lacking its former strength, the speech impaired by her last attack, but her tone still carried motherly authority. "No, listen to me. I know you want to do right by her and Ellie. But you can only do that if you do right by yourself."

The words hung in the room like a verdict. When he spoke again his voice was barely a whisper.

"Mom, don't leave me."

"Lucas…"

Abruptly, he bent down and threw himself into her arms, hugging her frail figure tightly.

"Mom, don't leave me." He swallowed. "If you go then there's no one who knows the real me anymore." His voice broke and he was choking on the words.

"I don't even _know_ who I am or what I want. It feels like that person has long gone. Like… like I'm just a shadow of who I used to be."

She hugged him tight and stroked his hair. Gently, soothingly.

"My love, my boy."

"I'm so scared, Mom."

"I know Lucas." She dropped a kiss on his head. "I know." Her touch still felt as reassuring as it had all those years ago. "Just go tell her."

Karen looked down at her son.

"You know what do to, Lucas. You'll do the right thing. You always have."

Her eyes, rimmed with dark circles were familiar pools of trust and love. She believed in him. She always had.

It was time.

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I know, this was short. But this is by no means a short story. So watch out for more to come! 


	2. There Goes the Sun

Here comes the second chapter...Thank you guys for your responses. I read all your reviews and they just made me want to work harder on this fic. Everyone who reviewed here and at OTH Writer's 911, thank you guys, you know who you are!

Thanks to my B/L fangirls (Camilla, Courtney, Mara, Mariah, Ella, Cassy, Jen and Sarah and all the others) and thanks to Tej, without whom I could never do this.

Disclamer: Still don't own anything. sighs

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2. There Goes the Sun 

**"Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand/ A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame/ Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name/ Mother of exiles."**

**_Emma Lazarus_**

_Durham, North Carolina, March 2008_

Lucas' hand hovered over the phone. Haley had told him to get the hell over himself, stop the moping and just call her. And he knew once his best friend Haley resorted to swearing it had to be a very serious matter. And maybe she was right.

Maybe happiness _was_ just a phone call away.

Soon into their freshman year at college they had realized that the long distance thing was just not working for them. With Brooke in New York and him in North Carolina at Duke it was just too hard. They had really tried, but both of them had noticed how their love had slipped into this something else.

And this something else had proven to be even more painful than the actual distance.

Brooke had been the one to call him on it.

But they both knew that it had only been half of the truth. Ever since that fateful day during their senior year they had been on different roads that seemingly lead into very different directions. Even if the thought of not being together was almost killing them, they both knew they had to set each other free. At least for a while.

After their break up he had been devastated and, for a long time, they had barely talked. He had busied himself, worked harder.

Then came this weird, awkward phase where they both had looked for some comfort; some cheap resemblance of what they had had together in other people's company. That phase where they heard through other people – notably Haley – about the various dates they had both gone on. The phase when they had revelled at the fact that neither of them seemed to be able to replace the other.

And now, seven months later, after the random dating and hooking up, after the partying and the trying to bury himself with work, Lucas was back to square one.

He still wanted her.

It had taken him some time to realize it, but it was how it was.

It had been one of those nights when his friends (i.e. Nathan and a few of his basketball buddies) had found him in his room doing something really worthwhile (i.e. reading this really lame existentialist novel for class). Under his loud protest they had forced him to go out with them. And he had succumbed, knowing it was probably good to go out again, to dance a little, flirt a little. Be around women in _that way_.

So they had gone out and by the end of the night he had found himself at the bar and inviting the blonde young woman across from him to a drink.

Later he couldn't really say why it had been this girl in particular. Maybe it was something about the way she shook her head when she laughed or the coy smirk with which she had accepted the drink, but he had found it intriguing. She was pretty and bright and surprisingly, just as much into literature as Lucas. So they had talked and flirted a little and somehow, at some point, Lucas had caught himself staring at her freckles.

He was surprised at how good it felt to be in nice company again. Maybe it had been the beers or the night or just the loneliness but it had worked. They had probably been talking about the relation between Dostoievsky's and Hemingway's work for about an hour when he had repeated this silly joke his professor had made a week ago about Hemingway and bull fights. And she had smiled again. A wide, captivating smile, that lit up her whole face and showed the dimples suddenly engraved in her flushed cheeks.

It had hit Lucas like brick wall.

This woman was smart, witty and funny. She was perfectly good looking and obviously more than interested, but she wasn't enough. Because she wasn't Brooke. She wasn't as flirty and quite as outlandish. She didn't kink her eyebrows like Brooke or had the same devious smile or the same timbre in her full, throaty laugh. She sure as hell wasn't as crazy or as fierce or as loving or as insecure.

And even if she had been, hell even if she _was_ just as spontaneous and daring and bitchy and passionate; it didn't matter.

It still wouldn't make her Brooke. And Brooke was all he wanted.

So he had made a decision. Lucas Scott would win Brooke Davis back. Yes, it would be hard to make it work. And maybe it was naïve, maybe it was stupid but he had to. He just loved her so damn much.

Lucas had to tell her. Tell her that she was still the one. That he was sorry, that he wanted to be with her again.

On this particular Sunday evening, he had found himself in his dorm room, staring at the black cordless for about a half hour. And just when he had worked up the courage to pick up the phone and start to dial, there was a knock on his dorm room door. He let out an exasperated sigh and placed the phone back in its station.

"It's open!"

To his surprise, it was Peyton. She had been accepted to UNC, majoring in studio art, and her department was located on the campus in Chapel Hill which wasn't all that far from Durham. Despite that fact, he hadn't seen her around that much lately, though.

They had to put an end to it about a month ago and barely talked to each other since. Lucas had a strong suspicion that the attempt to not cross ways was mutual.

He wasn't sure if he was even able to find words to describe this thing between them or whatever it was. Technically, it hadn't been more than hooking up twice. In a very drunken and desperate state.

And they had left it at that, had shrugged it off as a mistake, something two very lonely people did to get over their individual heartbreaks. One of those get-under-someone-to-get-over-someone things.

But he could not deny that there was more. That there were feelings involved.

He smiled gloomily. With him and Peyton, feelings had always been involved. They connected on a level that went beyond words. And even more so after the shooting.

There was a bond, running deeper than almost anything. Peyton got him in a way that even Brooke had never been able to. She _knew_. What it was like to lose a parent. What it was like to be an outcast. What it was like to have to give up the things you loved. What it was like to lose Brooke.

She had been there with him.

Although it was probably for the better that they had ended it, he cared deeply about her. Sometimes he wondered if that would ever go away. Or if he even wanted it to. Maybe he had never really let her go. Or maybe he was just holding on to a memory, to a place and a time that no longer existed.

The break up, if one could call it that had been inevitable but he had found himself missing her friendship lately. Just talking to her, being around her.

As soon as he looked into her face though, he knew something was wrong. She just stood there, awkwardly fidgeting with the strap of her black Arctic Monkeys hoodie.

"Lucas… I… I kinda need to talk to you."

Brooke jumped at the sound of her phone blasting through her tiny dorm room. The entire space was covered up in sketches and fabric samples and basically looked like a huge tip. It was as if someone had stepped into Paris Hilton's walk in closet and set a bomb off. The walls were plastered with cut-outs and color patterns and in the middle of the room, where the floor had once been, amidst a myriad of clothes and paper and twill and god knew what else, stood a dressing doll adorned with a top she was currently working on.

After a few moments of frantic hunt for her cell she located the phone under a pile of blue lace and grabbed it. When Brooke read the caller I.D. a huge smile spread over her face.

Lucas.

She had been doing a lot of thinking lately. She missed him so much. Maybe it was time to give it another go?

All this random hooking up; she hated it. And she knew he was thinking about getting back together, too. She had almost given up hope when he hadn't called her over the last two weeks but he had probably just been busy. She spit out the pins she had in her mouth and flipped the phone open.

"Broody!"

"Hey Brooke…"

"How are things down in North Carolina?"

"Good."

He cleared his throat. "Listen… I need to talk to you."

"I know, me too. Look Lucas, I just…" She took a deep breath. "…I miss you so much. This whole arrangement sucks. I know I said that we needed a break but…" She paused. Why was she as nervous as a schoolgirl? This was Lucas she was talking to. She was just so damn scared that maybe he had found someone else. Or that he had simply moved on. "It's still there, you and me, isn't it?"

He didn't answer immediately. There was an awkward pause and then she heard him clear his throat on the other end. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse.

"Brooke… Peyton's pregnant."

Brooke was stunned for a moment. Then she found her voice again.

"What? How? I mean, I know _how_, but… _how_ and _who_? Oh my god…is she ok? She must be so shocked… Oh my god Lucas we can totally talk about us later, of course this is way more important now. I'm just gonna call-"

"Brooke," he cut her off. "I'm _so_ sorry."

Brooke frowned. Was Lucas _crying_?

"Lucas, what's wrong?"

An icy lump was forming in her stomach. His voice, barely a whisper now, was proving her worst assumptions to be true.

"I'm the father."

In New York City, New York, a young woman flipped the phone shut and broke down on the floor, sinking into a pile of blue lace.

Several hundred miles down south in Durham, North Carolina, stood a broken hearted young man with blond hair and blue eyes. And all he could hear in the line was the dial tone.

**"The dust of exploded beliefs may make a fine sunset."**

**_Geoffrey Madan

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Big shocker? Hated it? Loved it? Review in any case! Good and bad, I like to hear what you guys think.


	3. Every Good Cowboy has Daddy Issues

**Author's note:** Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I love you guys.

Thank you Tej for your input and help. You're a lifesaver. All flashbacks are still in Italics. If you're confused it's intentional. If you're not confused then you're just especially clever or my writing is easy to foresee. Either way lol.

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own One Tree Hill. Not sure if I'd want to anyway.

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**3. Every Good Cowboy has Daddy Issues**

**"When one has not had a good father, one must create one."**

**_Friedrich Nietzsche_**

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_Tree Hill, North Carolina, June 2008_

Lucas sat on a bench at the Rivercourt, looking out on the waterfront. He kept wondering how his life had gotten so out of control. It now felt as it was living him rather then him leading it. As if someone or something else had taken the rudder and he was now drifting afloat on a sea of confusion.

The irony of him once quoting 'Invictus' to Haley was not lost on Lucas.

'_I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.' _What a joke.

When he and Peyton had told his mother earlier tonight, her first instinct had been anger, upset even, before her emotions turned her to be supportive. After all, Karen Roe knew better than anybody about circumstances like these. But underneath all her loyalty and love, underneath all that friendly advice she had offered her son and the girl he had gotten pregnant, Lucas had been able to see the disappointment in her eyes.

And for him that was worse than anger. All his life he had tried to live up to her expectations; to make her sacrifice mean something; to prove himself worthy of what she had done for him. Karen had wanted so much more for him, had had these bright hopes for his future. And he had had them, too. Now, they had been taken away from him.

But what unsettled Lucas the most was just how much he missed _her_. And with the way things were now there was no chance that this feeling would ever go away.

"I thought I'd find you here."

His head spun around when he recognized the voice, only to find Dan's silhouette towering over him, a shadow against the fading sun.

"What do you want?" Lucas asked, exasperation evident in his voice. There was only so much drama he could stomach at once, and over the course of last week, he had had his full share. Enough for a lifetime, actually.

Dan's mouth twisted upwards into a smirk. "I don't know. I thought we could, you know, _talk_." Only Dan Scott was able to make the suggestion of a simple conversation sound like a pact with the devil. Come to think of it, Lucas found the simile pretty accurate. He chuckled gloomily.

"I don't think we have anything to say to each other." This earned him a sarcastic snort from the man who had fathered him.

"See, that's where you're wrong. Some little bird tells me we're not so different after all."

Hearing the triumph and gleeful singsong in Dan's voice, Lucas felt anger rising in him like a tidal wave. "Don't flatter yourself," he spat, "I'll never be like you."

"Really? I heard you got a girl pregnant." Dan grinned. "My area of expertise." He watched the younger man who just remained silent, the sly smile on his face growing bigger. "And the wrong girl, too. What a pity. You know Lucas, us Scott men always had that thing for... _brunettes_. It really makes me wonder how we somehow get stuck with the knocked up blondes." Dan patted his son's shoulder and Lucas' back stiffened in response. "Guess you're my son after all."

The younger man flinched when he heard the words, cutting in like a knife. Why after all these years, could Dan still get to him like that?

Dan sat down next to him on the bench. "Again, my area of expertise."

Lucas turned to face the older man, his face full of resentment. "Well you're wrong. I am _nothing_ like you._ I _won't leave Peyton alone in all this. I will take care of her and our child. This kid will know its father."

"Wow. Spoken like the _true hero_ you are." Dan's voice was now dripping with sarcasm. It made Lucas want to hit him. Hard. "Hm... let's see. Correct me, if I'm wrong but you don't even love the girl. You also won't finish college, at least not in the near future. You'll work your ass off to see your kid on Saturdays and shoot some hoops at this lame ass court. You won't be going anywhere; no career, no future, just some dead-end job. You'll pretty much be stuck. After ten years you'll realize that you're nothing but a college drop-out and the father of a child out of wedlock. No parental rights whatsoever, dependent on that girl's mood to see your own kid. You'll have no prospects. You'll only be a Dadon paper and on weekends. Now that's what I call a real family life, Lucas."

"Well at least I'll _be_ a dad." Lucas hissed. Dan grabbed his son by the shoulders, staring into his eyes to find that the younger man held his gaze.

"Maybe that kid will know his father. But don't you see that's not enough? It won't have what you always wanted. It won't have what it deserves. And you won't either. A _family_." He paused and when he went on, his voice had almost taken on a gentle, consoling note. It shook Lucas to the core. "You still won't have that family, Lucas."

After a few moments of silence, Dan spoke again, all softness gone from his tone, as if that moment of truth and honesty had never happened. "It's nice to see you've decided to follow some Scott legacy after all. Just a damn shame your _heart_ is in the wrong place."

Somehow, Lucas knew that he wasn't talking about basketball.

And with a final scornful laugh, Dan Scott turned around, leaving his son behind.

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Peyton was standing in the dimly lit kitchen of her childhood home, finishing the last of the dishes. Karen had been over for dinner, and as much as she had dreaded it, with the support of Larry and Lucas, the news had been delivered as gently as possible.

Telling the mother of your ex-boyfriend that you are pregnant with his child was not really on her list of top ten nice over-a-meal-chat topics but considering the circumstances, it had gone down pretty well. Larry had been stoic, Lucas had been his usual knight in shining armor self and Karen - well Karen had been angry at first but that soon had turned into motherly understanding.

Peyton sighed. In some ways, life was truly messed up. But although this was just another entry in the endless book of personal drama and tragedies in the short 19 years of her life, she couldn't help but to feel happy. At least a bit.

She was having a baby.

At first, she had been terrified. Thinking about abortion. Or adoption. Not that she had like _really _considered them.

She was nineteen, she had the money and the support. This was not some eighteenth century novel; no-one shunned single, unmarried mothers anymore. There were no real reasons not to have this baby. Well, apart from the fact that she couldn't see herself as a mother. Or that she wasn't with Lucas. Or that she was just so damn unhappy.

But then, after about a week or so, it had hit her. She had stood in the queue at Target and it had just hit her. The realization that there was going to be a person entirely of her own. Someone that could not be taken away from her, someone who would not leave her, unless she let them. Soon she had caught herself looking at those stupid baby books in shops. Or stroking her belly or thinking about murals that would look pretty on nursery walls. Or how it would feel to hold that baby; to have its gentle weight snugly fit into the crook of her arm.

And after that, she hadn't really had any choice.

Yes, it had not been planned but hopefully, it would all work out. Lucas would stand by her. She knew he cared for her deeply, and maybe that would grow into more over time. She just wished that he would talk to her. Peyton still had to wrap her head around all the facts herself but he was dealing in his own Lucas Scott way obviously. Which basically was pretending that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. After dinner he had excused himself, saying he needed some fresh air.

She knew he was still thinking about _her_.

Even if that topic was a total taboo between them, she just knew. And Peyton couldn't help but think about her as well. Her long lost best friend. Sometimes she would catch herself in the middle of the day, wondering where Brooke was. Sometimes she lay awake, late at night, asking herself what Brooke was doing, how she was feeling. If she was okay. She was broken out of her thoughts by someone entering the kitchen.

"Hey." She turned around to see a dishevelled Lucas standing there, a deep frown marring his face.

"Hey. You okay?"

He shrugged. "I drove my Mom home and stopped by the court."

She noticed that he hadn't really answered her question but decided to give it up for now and instead pointed towards the pot on the stove.

"Want some herbal tea? Or coffee? Of course, if you are really brave and adventurous you can have some of this pregnancy stuff my Dad bought me. It's supposed to help you with your 'mood swings'," she jokingly finger-quoted, trying to ease some of the tension, "but I really don't recommend it."

Lucas gave her a weak smile. "Peyton... I need to talk to you." He looked tired. Beat even. "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh. This sounds serious." She smiled. "Do you want me to sit down, so that I don't faint during your confession?"

"Peyton." His tone was almost admonishing. She heard the earnest in his voice and felt fear rising. She swallowed and when she spoke again, her voice came out croaking and strange sounding.

"You, you didn't... uh... change your mind?" She sat down, suddenly feeling heavy and grave, and looked down to her feet, her crimson painted toe nails in those flip flops she wore on hot summer nights like this. The polish looked like blood stains in the dim light. He hadn't answered yet. "...Did you?"

She knew it. He loved Brooke. How on earth could she have thought that he would give that up to be with her and this baby? Of course, he would kind of be there and somehow help her out but how could she have fooled herself into the belief that he was willing to give up his _life_ for her? How could she have lied to herself like that? She knew the answer. It was because she loved him. She had always loved him.

Seeing him standing there so timid and quiet, she felt this love for him only grow.

When he looked up, there was mere confusion and disbelief in his eyes.

"What do you mean 'changed my mind'? I said I wanna be there for this baby. For you."

"I know Lucas, but if you can't... If you can't give up everything for it, that's okay. I wouldn't... I wouldn't _love_ you less."

There it was. She had said it. And seeing the sympathetic smile on his face she wasn't sure if he understood how she had meant it. He stepped closer and brought his hand to her cheek, wiping off the tears she had not noticed falling. At the contact she choked out a sob and closed her eyes.

"Peyton..."

She shook her head, curls flying and took a few steps back. She couldn't bare him touching her when she knew what was coming, what he was about to say. "Lucas, don't. Just don't say anything."

Her hand was clenching around the dishcloth, the fabric cutting into her palm. She didn't want to hear it. The explanations and apologies. She only wanted the pain to go away. Why could she never have what she wanted so badly? Did she not deserve to belong to someone, to be wanted? All her life she had been searching for love, for a family. But the only one she wanted and needed was not able to give that to her. And maybe it would always be like that.

Peyton felt as if the tiny last piece of her heart that had still been intact; that last little sanctuary that had kept her sane and alive was breaking now too.

That was, until he spoke again.

One moment, her whole world was being ripped away from her, even the things she had never truly had and the next moment, the whole world was full of possibilities.

"I want a family, Peyton. I want _this _family."

She opened her eyes to look into his. She couldn't make out his facial expression; she had never seen Lucas like this. It wasn't until the words came out, that she understood. And even then, she didn't fully grasp it. The only thing she knew was that he took her hand into his and spoke again.

"Marry me."

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"You did _what_?" Karen stared at her son in disbelief.

"I asked her to marry me."

Karen turned around, getting a hold of one of the wooden chairs around her kitchen table, the sturdiness of the solid material under her hands somewhat steadying her. Shaking her head, she sat down.

"I'm sorry. I must have gone crazy! Tonight, I'm learning that _my son_ got a girl pregnant. His ex-girlfriend. And you know, I'm thinking to myself: Karen you're doing fine, you're pretty cool about the whole thing considering…" she inhaled deeply, trying to keep her calm, "_considering _he is only nineteen and hasn't finished college, but now you tell me you want to _marry_ her? Are you out of your mind, Lucas?" Even though she had tried not to, she caught herself yelling.

Lucas looked shocked, terrified even. It made her heart and stomach churn and ache for him. For the little boy he had been. For the boy he never could be again.

"Mom…"

She took a step closer and gripped his shoulder.

"I won't allow this Lucas!"

"Mom, I'm nineteen!"

"Exactly! You are only nineteen Lucas! A few months ago you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone else! And you were in college with a scholarship had so much going for you…" Her voice wavered. "And now you're…"

"That's what this is all about, isn't it?" Lucas' voice was bitter. "You're disappointed in me. You think I've ruined my life. But I haven't! You're just upset that my life won't go according to _your _precious plan."

"You think that's it? You think I'm upset cause you've changed your plans? I'm upset because your heart is not in this! Lucas, this is not something like dropping out of college or a change of career! This is marriage we're talking about!" Karen tried to calm down a little, to make him see the light. When she saw his stubborn face, she sighed. "Standing by Peyton is the right thing to do. Marrying her isn't!"

He didn't respond. He just stood there in the middle of the room and looked so incredibly lost and yet determined at the same time. Karen realized that yelling wouldn't help matters. He was a Scott after all. And if Scott men set their mind on something, force would never be able to change it. She stepped closer to him, watching him guardedly; she stretched out a hand, running it down his cheek in one long gentle, motherly motion.

"Lucas. Why are you doing this?" Her voice was now eerily calm.

He didn't answer immediately. She could see that something was eating him up inside and it almost killed her not to know what it was. "I have to." His tone was void of all emotion.

"Why?" She didn't understand. "So you've screwed up. You were irresponsible and you made a mistake and you want to fix it, I get it Lucas. But two wrongs don't make a right."

Lucas merely shrugged. "Mom. This is my decision. I'm _gonna_ marry Peyton. It is the best for her and the baby. And for me."

Karen was desperate. She played her final card.

"No. It's not. Because you love Brooke."

She knew she wasn't playing fair. In fact, it was downright cruel. She saw his face flinch, as if she had hit him, and then it turned into a mask of stony determination.

"You did that, didn't you? You waited for years and years, living in that memory of _him_. Thinking about the family you could have had. For what? All this time, love was right in front of you. Maybe it wasn't as passionate, as consuming as your first. But it _was_ love, Mom. And you let it pass you by. I'm not going to spend my life thinking about what I can't have." He held her gaze, his eyes now steely. "I wish you'd have married Keith. Before it was too late."

Karen knew he was set out to hurt her, like she had hurt him. And a part of her, a part she thought she had left behind a long time ago, understood. It did not approve, but it understood. She could have told him that she wouldn't change the years with him for the world, that she had been happy. She could have told him that this longing for Dan, this dream of the family they could have had were dreams of a schoolgirl remembering her puppy love. She could have told him that he would never be able to run from it or hide from it. That he was far too young.

She could have told him all this. And it would have been the truth. And then again, at the same time, it wouldn't have been.

And so Karen Roe didn't say anything. She simply looked at her son. So close to her and yet so far away. She didn't say anything cause there was nothing for her to say.

So instead, he spoke again. "Let me do this. While I can."

**t.b.c. **

* * *

Please let me know what you think. I'd love for people to tell me if it worked or not, if it was believable or if you don't see the characters acting that way at all. Good or bad, I want to hear it, so click that nice little purple button and make a girl happy in like 30 seconds. Thanks! 


	4. Revelation

**Author's note:** Flashbacks are in _Italics._ Oh and you might be confused and shocked at some points. But that's totally intentional.  
If you could let me know what you think, good and bad, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Reviews are love.

A thousand hugs and kisses to everyone who reviewed. You are lovely and kind.  
There was some constructive criticism on the last chapter. I wanna thank that person for their honest opinion. I did some research on marriage and age in North Carolina. Actually you can marry without parental consent there when you're 18 but even if you couldn't I think that wouldn't change much of my story.  
If Karen saw that Lucas' mind was made up about it I don't think she would keep him from marrying Peyton. Not if she thinks he loves her. Not after her own life story. But that's just my opinion.

And as for Lucas marrying Peyton and his motivation for that: I think a lot of what makes Lucas' tick comes from his childhood and the relationship with his father. In my story, Lucas asks Peyton to marry him cause he thinks that way he'd do right by her.  
The fact that he loves her and wants his child to have the family he never had is also important. And last but not least, he's seen what happened to his mother, who was hung up on Dan for so long, unable to move on, unable to be happy with Keith sooner. I think Lucas does not want history to repeat itself. Whether he's doing the right thing to prevent it from repeating is a whole other story.

Last but not least:  
This chapter is very short but it was an entity as it was and I didn't wanna drag it out plus you deserved and update, so here you go.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own One Tree Hill. Or any of the characters that you know and love. I'd love to but I don't. I'd also not be able to pull this whole thing off with the help of awesome Tej. I don't own her either, but she pwns me.

**4. Revelation**

"**What pride to discover that nothing belongs to you - what a revelation."**

_**Emile M. Cioran**_

_New York, New York. June 2008_

After a long tiring day of classes, tutorials and fitting sessions, Brooke opened the door to her small apartment. She had been glad to move out of the dorm, the additional space and privacy allowed her to concentrate more on her designs.

Ever since that day in March, ever since that phone call, she had buried herself in work. She had started putting together a new fashion line for class and setting up a business plan. Her teachers had soon picked up on her recent effort, supporting one of their most promising students in her endeavour.

It had led her to a small internship at Neiman Marcus and would culminate in her very own, albeit little, fashion show in two months time. It was just a small launch thing at the faculty and most guests would be fellow students or professors but it was still a great accomplishment. Even though Brooke was only in her freshman year, she knew it was never too early to form contacts in the fast moving world that was the fashion industry. It had taken its toll though. Her primary goal, to get her mind of the "situation" as she called it in her head had been somewhat accomplished but she had also not really slept in days.

At first, people had tried to call her, get in touch with her. Lucas, Haley, even Peyton. She had shrugged them off. Had made up excuses about work and school to the two former and ignored the latter.

Somehow, they had caught on that she needed her time and had actually been convinced that she would be ok. In time. And she had been able to hold up that exterior of the invincible Brooke Davis.  
What a joke.

Then Karen had called, and Karen Roe was not a person to be ignored. Or to be fooled. With Karen, it was also pretty hard to feed her the "I'm-gonna-be-ok story." Karen was a mother. With her concern and love, the older woman had been able to at least get through to Brooke a little. It was also from Karen that she knew that Lucas and Peyton were going to keep the baby and currently preparing for the arrival of a little girl. She had not been surprised. She hadn't really expected any less from both of them. After all, Lucas Scott had a hero complex and had always wanted to make up for Dan's ways and Peyton Sawyer was the girl who had lost two mothers.

She had acted as if none of that mattered to her, pretending to be happy for the two of them.

The stone wall thing had worked surprisingly well, and the work load had helped.  
Now she just had to try to survive, stay away from them and ignore the nagging pain. The more work she had, the easier that task seemed to be accomplished. But there were those dreaded moments, when she was alone in her apartment, after a long day of work. The moments when the disappointment and the sorrow seemed to grow into monsters in the dark, lurking under her bed, waiting for that moment when she switched off the lights to crawl out and eat her up. When it became too much.  
When she would take a moment to stop and let the thoughts in she kept so happily entertained with dresses and fittings and classes and schedules.  
It was those moments when Brooke Davis would rely on her true friends in the world: Ben&Jerry's Phish Food, a hot soak and something strong.

Still, all the ice cream, baths and alcohol in the world couldn't change the fact that she had never felt this hollow. They couldn't change the fact that when she was alone and standing still she felt as if there was a huge weight resting on her and suffocating her.

Whatever Brooke Davis was doing, she was most definitely not doing fine.

Stepping into her small hallway, Brooke bent down to pick up the mail scattered on the floor. She put it on her kitchen counter and started rummaging through her freezer in search of her last deep frozen pine apple pizza. This was a junk food night. Trying to get the icy thing out of its stubborn cardboard box, she started to tear and rip forcefully until she knocked her purse over, sending bills and letters and handbag in a mess on the floor.

Cussing quietly, Brooke knelt down to collect the content of her purse. That was when she saw it. Next to her keys and favorite lip gloss lay a creamy white thick envelope that was most definitely not a bill. The elegant Italics read her name and address. When she turned it, she saw the blazing heart – Peyton's trademark – as a seal on the back.

A dreading feeling in her stomach, she ripped it open.

_**Soon they will be joining together,  
all the hopes for the future  
as they are joining their lives.  
Share with them this new beginning,   
the first day of the rest of their lives together.**_

_**  
Mr. Larry Sawyer requests the honor of your presence at the marriage of his beloved daughter:**_

_**PEYTON ELIZABETH  
to  
LUCAS EUGENE SCOTT**_

_**son of Ms. Karen Roe**_

**_  
On the 16th of August 2008  
At 15 o'clock_**

_**In St Martin's Chapel**_

_**1892 Union Avenue**_

_**Tree Hill, North Carolina**_

And underneath, in Peyton's distinct handwriting:

_Brooke, _

_I know I probably have no right to do this now, especially since we haven't spoken in a long time and I'm not sure we're still friends. I'm sorry for that. I know a lot has happened. I'm sorry for that, too. And I know this is a lot to ask but as far as I'm concerned, you still are my best friend. You always have been. _

_This day would mean nothing without you. I've tried to contact you these last two weeks to ask you in person, but I haven't been able to get a hold of you. If I had, you would know now how sorry I am for everything. For not telling you sooner. For what I did. Hurting you was never my intention._

_When we were little I used to dream about how it would be - walking down that aisle. We dreamed together, remember? Granted, you always imagined getting hitched to this guy from the Backstreet Boys or Brad Pitt or something and my Mr. Right looked somewhat more along the lines of Kurt Cobain. And I always thought I would have this lavish ceremony with my Mom crying and my Dad giving me away. Not everything worked out as we planned and my fantasy has changed over the years but Brooke…I could never imagine doing it without you. Whenever I pictured this day in my head, there you were, always by my side. _

_To be honest with you, I'm scared shitless. I'm going to be a mother and a wife before I'm even allowed to drink. Even though over the years we've let things come between us…You are still my Brooke, and there is no other person in this world who could possibly be my maid of honour. It's you or no one._

_Please Brooke, your friendship still means the world to me. I hope you feel the same and come down here for my wedding. _

_Share it with me. It means nothing without you._

_Love, P. Sawyer_

She did not cry. In fact, she didn't move at all for a while. She just sat there, crouched on the floor and stared down at the letter, the forgotten pizza thawing on the counter.

t.b.c.


	5. We Are Less than Strangers

**Author's Note:** Here comes the next chapter. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it. Opinions on Peyton were pretty divided but personally, I don't think sending that letter was purely selfish or evil. Yes, there are aspects of Peyton that make me really mad but I can identify with her loneliness and the fact that she is hopelessly in love with Lucas. Let's just say that Brooke won't be a helpless victim at this wedding and Peyton is not an evil conniving bitch. I think she really wants Brooke there. Personally, I think the alternative of Peyton getting married without inviting the person she regards as her best friend would have been way worse.

Thanks to Tej for being her awesome self and to several other ladies (you know who you are...). Special kudos this time to Mariah. Thank you for being and American when I needed one.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own One Tree Hill or any of the characters.

ok...here goes.

**5. We Are Less than Strangers**

**"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."  
Tennessee Williams**

_Tree Hill, North Carolina, June 2016_

He watched her sitting at a table on her own, right under the glittery banner that read _Welcome back, Ravens!_ and _Class of 2006 Reunion _in bold letters, fingering the stem of her champagne flute.

From afar, she still looked every inch the girl he had known all those years ago. The make up on her beautiful features was immaculate as ever and her long dark hair shimmered in the lights.

But she sure had changed.

She still carried herself with the same air of confidence but her formerly bubbling, overflowing energy was somewhat more channeled, more controlled. She had grown into the astonishing woman he always knew she could be.

Yet, was she happy?

He remembered a time when she had been glowing from within, radiant and beaming with happiness. Her foot, clad in an elegant gold stiletto was bouncing up and down, a clear sign that she was nervous or stressed. Even from his place he could see how well the dress she was wearing suited her. It was a deep shade of green, a color that brought out her eyes. She was still stunning as ever but she was a stranger to him.

"May I have this dance?"

Brooke stared open-mouthed at the hand held out to her and then looked up into his face. It looked so familiar and yet it didn't. The last ten years had been kind to Lucas. He had lost all boyishness, his straight, graceful features now those of a man. She took a closer look, noticing all the things about him that had changed. His face, the face of a man that had seen the years, who was no longer nineteen.

The thin lines around his eyes didn't make him look old. The buzz cut didn't make him look shabby. The stubble around his chin didn't make him look untidy.

He was still very attractive, but in an unfamiliar, scruffy kind of way.

We are strangers, she thought.

He saw the hesitance on her face. "Come on, pretty girl" he smiled.

She frowned at the mention of her nickname and shook her head.

"I'm not that girl anymore."

He was surprised and taken aback by the hostility in her voice.

"Brooke, I was just hoping we could…"

"Could what?"

"Look, it's just a dance."

She felt strange, remembering the last time he had said the exact same words to her. Looking up at his face, she caved. It was just a dance, right? And as soon she put her small hand in his big warm one and he wrapped her arms around her gently, the awkwardness was gone.

Against her will and better judgment, it felt comfortingly familiar. She wondered if that would ever go away.

She tried to remain a safe distance, but as always with Lucas Scott, maintaining said distance wasn't as easy when he puller her close.

Brooke put her cool smooth cheek against his warm one and closed her eyes. There was still that cloud of regret looming over them, the physical nearness only adding to what she felt herself unable to overcome. Just like the last dance they had shared.

"_Brooke?" _

_She couldn't dare look into his eyes. She might burst into tears and dammit Brooke Davis would so not burst into tears at her best friend's wedding. Ex-best friend's wedding? Ex-boyfriend's wedding? 'Gosh, I'm like Julia Roberts in this freaking movie,' she thought, 'only Lucas is not gay. And I'm not wearing anything vile and lilac.'_

_When the groom had asked the maid of honor for a dance she hadn't really been able to refuse but she wished she had, feeling like every eye in the room was on her; mocking her, pitying her. _

_Once again I'm Brooke Davis. The girl left behind._

_And as soon as she had heard the first few chords of the song, she wanted to run away. The hollowness inside her expanded and threatened to consume and strangle her. Leave it to Peyton to play depressing emo even at her_ _freaking wedding_.

_And it was not just any song._

_It was _"Overcome"_ by _Better Than Ezra

_She knew it because Lucas had once written her a letter with the lyrics in it. He had written about how much this song meant to him, how he thought it reflected his own feelings so well. _

_Love- struck idiot she had been at the time, Brooke had downloaded the damn thing from iTunes. _

_Feelings are fleeting Davis, Brooke scolded herself. _

_Still, against her own will, the words and the melody seemed to sweep her up and take her away. She wondered if he even remembered. _

"I fell in too deep  
But I learned to swim  
In an undertow  
Since I'm giving in…"

_And then the chorus came with a hidden force and it was almost as if her inner voice had been turned into music._

"I feel strange  
I feel changed  
I feel strange...overcome...overcome by you"

_The music expanded, widened into something grand and eternally sad. She felt so alienated. What were they doing?_

"…I'm a little bit wiser, I'm a little bit sadder  
I'm a little bit less, you might have guessed…"

_Lucas swallowed hard. It was almost as if the song was exposing his wrongs, singing them out loud for the world to hear. Yes, he had been less to her than she deserved. _

"…But if you could be staying  
Tell me now, darlin', I think I'm fading  
I swear I'll never trade your love for a lie…"

_He had once told her he'd never trade what was between them. That given the chance, he would never let her go. And yet he had. In turn, he would now have a family. A family he had planned on having with her. So much had changed since then and today he had made a commitment to Peyton. Not only out of obligation but out of love. And still, this understanding held no absolution, the joy over the things he had now no adequate comfort for his loss. Even though he knew it was pointless, he wished he could somehow keep her in his life, make her stay. Because with her, he knew, a part of him would be lost, too._

"_Brooke, I'm sorry."_

_She sighed when he broke the silence. She couldn't bear to hear what he had to say. Not now, anyway._

"_Don't Lucas. Please, just… just don't apologize, ok?"_

_He tried to look into her eyes to she if she was mad and when she finally turned her face upwards he was almost taken aback by the bold, blank look on her face. Only her eyes were shimmering traitors of the feelings underneath. _

"_But…"_

_Brooke couldn't dare to look into his eyes any longer, so she pressed her face against his cheek again, her hot breath tingling on his skin as she spoke._

"_Just… I just need to know. You…" She gulped. "You didn't trade us for a lie Lucas, did you?" Lucas tried to speak, but she cut him off. "Because I'll be happy for you if this is what you want. I just… couldn't stand it if you were living a lie."_

_He was utterly surprised. He had expected anger, even resentment, but not this. Brooke Davis wasn't putting up a fight. And that scared him. _

_She kept swaying in time with the music, her gaze hidden from him. His heart broke and he knew he'd never be the same._

"_So just-"She paused. "Just _tell_ me Lucas…everything you said today, you meant it, right?"_

_Maybe it didn't matter all that much. Whatever his answer was, a part of her would die. But she had to know. She held still for a moment, waiting for his response. He did not have to speak. Lucas was a man to stand to his words and if it had not been so she would have loved him less. It was time to let it go. To give him an absolution._

"_It's ok." She said softly. "I knew you wouldn't have gone through with this if it was."_

_Lucas watched Brooke stepping away from him before he could explain to her, tell her… tell her what exactly?_

_There were no words to make this right. Maybe there never would be. _

"_Make both of you happy, Lucas." Brooke's voice wavered slightly but she'd say her piece. She was just hoping it would do the trick. "Anything else would be a waste."_

_She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then briskly walked away as if only tact and the surrounding people kept her from running._

"...hold still, come on and save me  
...hold still, come on and let me   
...hold still come on again...  
...hold still, come on and let me  
...hold still, come on and let me…"

_He was left on the dance floor with only Kevin Griffin's voice for company. With the fading words the realization came that she would never come back and he'd never hold her again. That and that for Lucas Scott, there was no such thing as salvation._

Lucas knew that the music was slowly fading out but he couldn't bring himself to draw away, so he slowly kept moving her in circles.  
His hand was on her back, the warmth of her skin creeping through the smooth satin of her dress, the think material sliding gently across her shoulders.  
He let it linger there for one more moment, let it glide down her spine in that hollow on the small of her back, almost as if this was goodbye.  
In response, her shoulders moved upward, towards his face and as he stared down on the porcelain that was her skin he felt the illogical urge to bury his face in the concave line of her neck.

But the song was over and he knew he couldn't.

-----------------

t.b.c.


	6. The Tide That Came Back

**Author's Note:** Here comes another chapter. Actually this is very important for later parts of the story. And for all you patient people, this is heavy on the B/L side. Thanks to everyone who reviewed.

Thank you Tej. You're my genius when I need you.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them.

------------------------------

**6. The Tide That Came Back**

"**Time and tide wait for no man."  
- _Geoffrey Chaucer_**

Later that night, Lucas stepped out of the gym and deeply inhaled the cool night air.

He looked up at the blue and white banner that hung above the entrance, the black ravens flanking the letters that welcomed him back to his high school. The plastic gently flapped in the breeze. He couldn't believe that it had been ten years. This place was full of memories and tonight they did not seem as distant as usual.

A few hundred meters off he could make out a lone figure. After their dance, she had disappeared and now sat in the courtyard on one of the wooden benches. The same and yet not, Lucas thought. But then a lot of things were.

"This bench taken?"

Brooke smiled. But it was fake and, somehow, it didn't reach her eyes. "There's plenty to go around." She reached for the half empty bottle of champagne next to her and took a sip. "Want some?" She handed the bottle to Lucas and he drank. He tried to figure out if she was already intoxicated but couldn't really tell. "So, where's Peyton?"

It was an emotionless question. He wished he could tear down that damn wall she was holding up, that he could somehow rid her of her ever present aloofness.

"She took off early. Ellie's not feeling too well and she didn't want to leave her with the sitter so long."

Brooke nodded merely. Then her next question took him by surprise. "She is a great mom, isn't she?"

Lucas' face softened and she saw the affection in his eyes. "Yeah."

"I mean you can say a lot about Peyton, _god knows_, but that I always knew, you know? Especially when I saw her with Jenny. I guess if you had two loving mothers in your life you gotta know what it takes." She let out a sarcastic laugh. "Imagine what a failure I'd have been."

"What are you talking about? Brooke, you're affectionate, you're caring and passionate as hell. You fight for the people you love. I know you'd be an amazing mother."

_Like I fought for you?_

Something inside her snapped. "You don't really know me anymore, Lucas."

"I'm sorry, I just-"

He looked like a dog baffled by admonition; not knowing what he had done wrong. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"No, it's… it's okay. I don't know you either", she shrugged, "I mean I pursued other goals, I guess. Before I met you I never really thought about settling down. And now my life is very different."

"Tell me about it." Lucas' voice was soft.

"There's not a lot to tell. Well….after graduation I moved to L.A. and worked as a sales rep for Marc Jacobs. I got promoted and I guess on thing led to another and I ended up in Paris doing this internship for Chanel."

_How shallow do I sound? _Brooke thought.

"Wow, that must have been a dream come true."

_Yeah, right. It should have been, Lucas. A two bedroom flat in the Quartier Latin that always felt empty, no matter how much you turned the TV up. The same shallow, fake people day in and day out. The city of love and not a single person to talk to. To_ really _talk to. _

Lucas was still looking at her, expectantly. Sure, hearing it like that it sounded great.

She knew she couldn't tell him. About the sleepless nights. About how she didn't really get to work there all that much. About how she had found out that even in the fashion business getting a foot into the door was mostly achieved by ass kissing and making coffee for the people higher up the ladder.

That, or sleeping with them.

She couldn't really tell him that being talented didn't mean anything if you didn't have the recklessness to screw people over to get where you wanted.

That _you_ didn't really mean anything.

_A dream come true, indeed._

So instead of a real answer, she shrugged impassively. Then she looked up and saw that he was still waiting for her to say something. "So after that I came back to the states and worked as a personal stylist in L.A. for a while. Trying to keep celebrities from dressing like blind people." She intentionally kept her voice light.

"So have I seen some of your work?"

"Lindsay Lohan's first tasteful appearance at the Golden Globe was my high point." She grinned lopsidedly and he wondered if she was telling the truth.

"Well… I don't exactly read US Weekly."

She looked fake appalled. "Please, I'm more of a Cosmopolitan kind of girl."

He snickered but the weight wouldn't move off his chest.

"So, what happened? You said you _used _to do that."

_Damn you Lucas Scott for being so perceptive._

Lucas watched her freeze again, shielding herself. It didn't quite work that well. Her voice held remorse and bitterness.

"I couldn't do it anymore. This industry is… it's _insane_. You mean nothing to these people. It's all a big fat lie." _Well that and the fact that they fired me._

He couldn't ever imagine a time where Brooke Davis hadn't meant something to someone. And he wondered what she'd done instead to earn her money.

"What about your own stuff?"

"I don't know. I always wanted to do my own line but… lately I've been feeling… maybe it's being back here…" She made a vague gesture towards the gym. "I get kinda sick of it. I feel like I should be doing more with my life, you know?"

She looked at him and then looked down at her hands in her lap, fiddling with her bracelet. For the first time her tone held a resemblance of warmth, of emotion.

"That day, when…when the shooting happened- I promised myself I'd make a difference. And…I had a lot of dreams. I don't know what happened."

"I do. Life happened."

She was surprised by the sadness in his words.

"What about your dreams Lucas? I always thought you'd… study, have an academic career, make world peace…"

"Well having to make a living for your family kinda gets in the way of that."

"So you're…"

"Still running the body shop? Yeah. It… it feels like… like I owe him."

He breathed in deeply and suddenly the taste of salt was heavy on his palate. The wind was blowing in from the sea tonight, stirring up the heavy, humid air. "Besides, I didn't really have that many qualifications. But I knew my way around a car."

After Dan's death, everyone had been surprised to see that the dealership went to both his sons. It had said so in his will but neither one had wanted it, and so Nathan and Lucas had sold the whole thing. 'Liquidating their assets' it had been called but that was actually kind of a joke seeing Dan had actually managed to get the place into debt that about matched its market worth.

Lucas, though, had kept the body shop that had once belonged to his uncle; the only man that had truly been his father. With no college degree or other qualifications and a wife and child to provide for it had been a lifesaver. Over the years it had shown that Lucas had inherited both his mother's stubbornness and her sense for business, turning it into a small, but successful garage.

"I know what you mean. It is like a legacy. You, me, Peyton, the people that are left behind, we have this responsibility to do something with this life." She sighed. "I just wanted to matter. To someone out there. Guess that didn't work so well."

He looked up, surprised that she got him so well. "Look, I'm not exactly saving lives right and left either. I still got grease under my nails, but it's enough for my family."

"Lucas Scott. Always the hero, huh?" He couldn't help but notice the biting sarcasm in her voice.

"Brooke-"

She cut him off. "What about _your_ dreams?"

He looked at her, his smile strained with sadness. "We don't always get what we want."

"Really? The Lucas Scott _I _knew was going to do great things, like I don't know… win the Noble Prize for Literature or something!"

"It's the No_bel _Prize." He corrected her.

"I know." She was mocking him but for a moment he could see the enthusiastic, chipper young girl again. It made him smile. And then the moment was gone.

Brooke watched Lucas chuckle and grow silent again. They finished the bottle of champagne together and sat side by side, the darkness covering them like an old, comforting blanket. Suddenly a playful smile lit up his face and he grabbed her hand, pulling her up from the bench. She found it was warm and solid and a little sticky from the salt in the air.

"What are you doing, Lucas?" She felt a little dizzy. And a little daring. She most definitely didn't feel as imperturbable anymore. _This was bad_.

"Come on, let me show you something."

_** ------------------------------------**_

**_t.b.c._**

**_Reviews are LOVE._**


	7. Pandora's Box

**Author's Note:**After fanfiction and its lovely document manager have given me lots of trouble the past few days I'm now finally able to update this fic. I'm sorry that I posted this chapter somewhere else a little sooner but as I said, this was due to technical difficulties. For all you readers who have gotten an email saying I updated but not being able to find the chapter I'm sorry. The document was all messed up and I had to delete it again. This chapter is somewhat of a peace offering, a B/L shaped cookie if you will, and I hope it consoles you lol.

Thanks to every single one who reviewed. It means a lot. This chapter is for my friend Sarah who pwns not only the chapter but also me. lol.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own OTH, so don't sue. The poem in this chapter is based on a beautiful poem by the Carribbean author _Lorna Goodison_. She is amazing. The poem's title is the same as in this chapter. The title of the novel in the chapter is the title of a play by German playwright _Bertold Brecht_.

Now on to the good stuff...

**Pandora's Box**

_**"Let the key guns be mounted, make a brave show of waging war, and pry off the lid of Pandora's Box once more."**_

_**Amy Lowell**_

When he had told her he wanted to show her something, Brooke hadn't known that Lucas would drag her all the way across town. But then, after a twenty minute walk she mostly spend trying not to fall onto her face, (stilettos and champagne, so _not_ a good combination) she realized where they were.

"This is it."

Lucas held the door open for Brooke to enter the small house. He had made an effort not to touch her, but when she walked past him, he felt the irrational urge to put his hand in her hair and pull her close. _Get a grip_.

Brooke stepped inside and breathed in the familiar scent. Everything inside of Karen's home still looked the same it had ten years ago. Yet she felt strangely misplaced. She did not belong here anymore. She could no longer call this place home and she was surprised how painful that thought actually was.

They had had made their way into Lucas' old bedroom and as soon as she saw that Karen had not really changed a thing in here either, she could not hide a smile and a sarcastic snort.

"Like a freaking shrine."

Lucas chuckled. "A little bit."

Some of the tension seemed to ease and Brooke gingerly sat down on his bed. Trying to fight the memories the place held. Shoving her thoughts aside she looked up at him.

"So, what did you bring me here for, Scott?"

Although she was trying to be suave, Brooke had never been one for patience and seeing the curiosity under her mask of casualty made Lucas snicker.

"I wanted to show you something. Hold on." He reached inside his closet and began digging through all the stuff that had accumulated there throughout the years. When he had found a ragged shoebox he let out a sound of triumph. "There we go." He handed her the shoebox and sat down next to her, looking at her expectantly. "Go on. Open it."

He looked so eager; his eyes staring holes into her own, she had to avert his gaze and concentrated on the box in her lap instead. Lifting the lid, Brooke looked inside. There was a single book. It was a hardcover, a simple brown one adorned with black letters.

She held it up to read the title.

**_Mother Courage and Her Children_**

_By Lucas Scott_

She looked up at him, her expression one of utter amazement.

"You wrote a book."

He looked a little smitten. "A selection of poems actually. I know it's not one that would get me a Nobel Prize like you expected but…"

"You wrote a book." Her voice was soft now, all arrogant tones gone. "Wait, how did I not know? Haley never told me." She waved the book in the air.

He smiled. "That's because this is the only existing copy."

Now she looked flabbergasted. "But… _why_?"

"I never sent it to any publishing houses. I don't know… I got this small printing shop by the river to print and bind it for me but…"

He looked at Brooke who gently ran her hand over the cover. So he still had his dreams. And he had made one of them true. What had she done all these years? Where had her dreams gone?

"You really did it."

There was something in her voice that made him want to reach out and touch her, to reassure she was not alone. But that was ridiculous of course. Her icy exterior made that impossible and most of all, she didn't need him. She was strong. She was Brooke.

"You should not be hiding this in a closet."

He smiled gloomily. So many things in his life were hidden, buried. Never to come out but stored away.

Shrugging his shoulders he retorted: "I don't know if I'm ready for everyone to see it."

Her curiosity got the best of her. "What are the poems about? Can you tell me?"

Lucas cleared his throat.

"About a lot of things. About family. About love. About children and parents and the ties that bind us…"

Brooke turned her face towards him, his voice drawing her in. She remembered a time when Lucas Scott had been able to fill that void in her heart. A void that seemed to be expanding lately, threatening to consume her. There are no heroes for you, Brooke Davis, she told herself.

"Read one for me. Please?"

He took them book from her offering hand and began turning the pages in search of a particular poem. When he had found it, he started to read, the low murmur of his voice soothing her, lulling her in.

"_**For My Mother (May I Inherit Half Her Strength)**  
_

_My mother loved my father  
I write this as an absolute  
in this my twenty fifth year  
the year to discard absolutes_

_He appeared, her fate disguised,  
as a player in this match they had  
he had driven from a town  
one hundred miles south of hers._

_She tells me he dressed the part,  
looking dandy in his navy blazer  
cream serge pants, seam like razor,  
and the cap and the cotton white shoes._

_My father stopped to speak to her sister,  
till he looked and saw her by the oleander,  
sure in the kingdom of my blue-eyed grandmother.  
They didn't win the match that day._

_He wooed her with words and he won her.  
He had nothing but words to woo her,  
On a visit to distant Charleston he wrote,  
'I stood on the corner of Market Street and looked,  
and not one woman in that town was as lovely as you'._

_When I came to know my mother many years later, I knew her as the figure  
who sat at the first thing I learned to read: 'SINGER',  
and she taught me to read while she sewed and  
she taught me right from wrong as she sewed_

_and she sat in judgement over my character as she sewed.  
She could work miracles, she would make a garment from a square of cloth  
in a span that defied time. Or feed twenty people on a stew made from  
cabbage leaves and a carrot and  
a palm full of meat._

_And she rose early and sent me clean into the world and she went to bed  
in the dark, for my father never came home._

_There is a place somewhere where my mother never took me  
a country where my father with the always smile  
my father whom all women loved,  
who had the perpetual quality of dazzling people... hurt his bride._

_When he died, she sewed a dark dress  
and she summoned that walk, straight-backed,  
and buried him dry-eyed._

_Just that morning, weeks after  
she stood delivering potatoes from their skin  
singing  
she fell down a note to the realization that she did  
not have to be brave, just this once  
and she cried._

_For her hands grown coarse with the years lost  
For the time she worked the café for my college fees  
For the man she couldn't love soon enough  
and for the pain she bore with the eyes of a queen_

_and she cried also because she had loved him."_

He finished and looked at Brooke, tentatively, as if he was seeking her approval. She swallowed.

"It's beautiful." Somehow he knew she was being earnest. "Really, Lucas. Are they all about your mother?"

"No. And it's not just about _my_ mother, it's about mothers and sons and fathers in general, you know? Sure, some of it is autobiographical, but a lot of it isn't." He stopped to think for a moment, trying to find the words for what he wanted to say. "It's…it's about love and about bonds that run so deep - no one can sever them." He swallowed. "Even if you wish you could."

The words seemed to take on a new meaning, a new dimension. She was no longer sure what he was talking about. But then, she had had a lot to drink that night. Maybe it was just the champagne.

Lucas found himself staring into her deep, green eyes. Losing himself in them. They were no longer distant and closed off. Ice queen Brooke Davis was gone and it was as if he could see right into her soul. See the hurt, the pain, the vulnerability. He wished he could take that pain away, make it all better for her. Maybe then he would be able to heal himself.

"Can I read it?" Her voice was merely a whisper now.

He nodded and handed her the book. Brooke opened it, glancing at the first page.

_To my mother who taught me right from wrong._

_To my father who taught me how to be a man._

_To my wife who taught me how to be a husband._

_To my daughter who taught me how to be a father._

_To a pretty girl who taught me how to love._

When she looked up into his eyes that was what she saw. Love. And passion. It made her feel like eighteen again.

The seconds seemed to extend into eternities. And then all Brooke felt where his hot, soft lips on hers. None of them could have said who initiated it, which one had moved in first. But the very moment the gap was closed between them and she felt his lips on hers, everything fell out of focus.

After that it was a blurry mess of hasty struggling, a brisk discarding of clothes, the insatiable, irrepressible need to feel naked skin on naked skin. It was fiery kisses on exposed shoulders, necks, and chests, hurried ripping of seams and buttons, roaming, searching hands underneath pants and shirts and underwear. It was sighs and moans long suppressed, rushed breathing, swift motions and an overwhelming, burning want to be one, to fill each others voids. With recklessness that scared them both, they tore each others clothes off as if they could tear the years off too, the disappointment, the pain.

She didn't know how it happened but she soon found herself naked on the bed, her slick, heated body pressed against the cool sheets. Waiting for his strong, lean form hovering above her while he was putting on a condom; hurriedly, impatiently.

She stared into his eyes, dark and blue in the shade and for the first time that night it didn't feel like he was shielding himself anymore. He was still the boy she had loved more than life. It was like homecoming.

She cupped his cheek, lingering for a moment, wondering why he had to be the one to make her feel alive again. And then he lowered himself into her, and the world fell away.

-----

t.b.c.

Bit of a shocker here...reviews are love!


	8. Awakening

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Thank you to everyone who took the time to tell me what especially they liked and what they didn't like. Hm...People might be dissappointed by this chapter tho I think it's an essential one for the rest of the story. It's also essential to me for the characters.

Thank you Tej for your help and assurance. This was a hard chapter to write and you gave me the confidence to post this.

Thank you Sarah for being just Sarah. You are crazy and I am crazy and together we keep each other sane.

This chapter takes off right where we left B/L last time. In bed. wiggles eyebrows

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them, so don't sue. I own neither the quotes in this chapter nor any of the characters, except Ellie who you guys haven't seen much of lol.

on to the real stuff...

**8. Awakening**

**_"I slept with faith and found a corpse in my arms on awakening; I drank and danced all night with doubt and found her a virgin in the morning."_**

_**- Aleister Crowley**_

Afterwards they found themselves entangled on the king size bed. Lucas lay quietly, Brooke in his arms, eyes on the ceiling. He _loved_ her. He wanted to protect her, with all his might, wishing he could be the one to save her. Even if it was just for one night. Even if it was just for a few moments.

Brooke couldn't bring herself to pull away. She couldn't bring herself to face reality. Not yet. She couldn't allow herself to think about consequences, about what they had done. What she had done. For the moment, she just needed to be held and feel safe again. It would have to last a lifetime.

Because rescue was just an illusion.

Lucas was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when Brooke left his embrace wordlessly, got off the bed and went over to his dresser.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm cold. I need a shirt," she stated simply.

When she opened the top drawer, something caught her sight. She put a hand over her mouth, trying to suppress the tears welling up. Then she told herself to get it together. She turned around, walking briskly around the room, gathering her clothes, putting them on in a hurry. Lucas sat up on the bed, deeply confused.

"Brooke?" She wouldn't look him in the eye. "What's wrong?"

She let out an icy laugh. "You ask me what's wrong? Gosh Lucas, what do you think is wrong?"

"Brooke-"

"Where the fuck is my bra!" She exploded. She stood in the middle of his room, in nothing but black lace panties and looked as if she was going to break down.

He got up and put his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her.

"Brooke, wait. Let's talk about this. Let's talk about us."

"There is no _us,_" she spat, "This was just sex."

"Brooke, you know that's not true. I lo-"

She got into his face, eyes glistening with resentment. "_Don't_. Don't you _dare_ say that to me right now. You cannot make this right. Nothing is _ever_ going to make this right."

Then her whole body, tense with anger, grew limp within moments and she looked small and vulnerable again. Defeated. The guilt weighing on her shoulders. Lucas felt as if he was going to choke.

"You made me the other woman," her voice was incredulous, as if she was amazed by herself, "and I let you." Then she grabbed her dress from the floor and put it on. Making her way to the door, her shoes in her hand, Lucas tried one last time to stop her.

"Brooke-"He reached for her arm.

She turned around. Her hair was a mess and so were her clothes. She felt dirty and she was ashamed. But the worst part of it was that she couldn't bring herself to hate the man staring back at her.

"Lucas, you can't rescue me, okay? You and I... There are some things you just can't fix. And I can't rescue you."

He stood there; completely naked, looking like a lost boy. When she saw the pain in his eyes, she almost felt sorry for him, which in turn made her anger flare up again.

How come Lucas Scott was always the victim in the scenario? She looked back at the object on the dresser, grabbed it and shoved it into his hands.

"Are you honestly going to tell me that you don't love Ellie and your family? Or that you would leave Peyton?"

He stared at the picture frame in his hands. Three happy faces were beaming up at him. His wife and daughter at his side. His family. Lucas didn't say anything.

"That's what I thought."

Lucas looked up again, surprised to hear a softer tone in her voice and to find welling up in her eyes.

"Goodbye, Lucas."

And with that she left. And for the first time in ten years Lucas Scott cried for a love long lost.

-------

When Peyton heard the front door close, she opened her eyes. A short glance at the clock on her bedside table told her that it was 5.16 a.m. and the empty space she could feel beside her betrayed that her husband had just come home. She turned around in the big, spacious bed, away from his vacant pillow and let out a sigh.

Then the silence engulfed her again and she was able to hear his tired footsteps trotting up the staircase; but instead of turning right towards the master bedroom, they took a turn to the left and grew quieter again.

For a good fifteen minutes, Peyton just lay there, debating whether she should get up or not. She just lay there until the screaming of the empty space behind her got too loud, too hard to deny in the grey morning light. Wrapping a bathrobe around her tall figure she stepped out of her bedroom, her feet silent on the cool wooden floor.

Lucas watched his daughter sleep. The blinds were still drawn but a little morning light was filtering through, so he could make out her features and see the motives on her pyjamas. It was a Sesame Street one. The sight almost made him cry.

The nights were warm and so Ellie had fought herself free from the sheets which were now a crumpled heap at the foot of her bed. Soft, damp strawberry blonde hair clung to her forehead, unruly like her mother's.

He took a step closer so he could watch the rising and falling of her chest. He remembered the days after she had been born when he had watched her every night, finding comfort in watching that round flanel clad baby body, breathing so steadily.

She looked so peaceful, so content. He wished he could dive into that bliss of ignorance again. Ellie didn't regret, Ellie didn't hold remorse. She loved just as openly as she disliked, and for her, nothing was pretence. Everything was easy even as she wore her heart on her sleeve. Her world still consisted of black and white and no awful grey shades and Lucas envied her for that.

He didn't hear her. He just stood there, with his back to the door, watching his daughter sleep. The picture was a happy one and yet Peyton couldn't smile. Even that early in the morning the house was fairly warm but she shivered and pulled her robe tighter around her.

There was something about his slumped posture and the fact that he had been gone all night. And then she knew.

Later she would wonder if maybe she had known all along. Because it really didn't come as that much of a shock.

"Lucas."

He jerked, ripped out of his stupor by her voice. He turned around, forcing himself to smile. She was a beautiful woman. Even at five in the morning, with no make up on and just in an old bathrobe; Peyton Sawyer was still beautiful in an ethereal, gossamer way. It was not only in her looks but also in the way she held herself, the way she laughed. It made her beautiful but to Lucas, it also made her elusive.

He stepped out of his daughter's room and quietly closed the door behind him.

"Hey." Peyton just gave him a look and headed downstairs. Lucas followed her. "I'm sorry Peyton," he let out a nervous laugh. "It got really late last night and I didn't want to wake you so I just…"

They had walked into the kitchen and she turned around, her face a mask.

"I know, Lucas."

He was stunned. "What?"

"I _know_." She pulled open a drawer, eerily composed and set out to make coffee. When she spoke again, the words cut the silence like a knife. He wasn't able to pinpoint the emotion in her voice. Whatever it was, it wasn't really anger.

"I know where you were last night and-" she switched on the coffee machine with one hand while the other held on to the countertop. Her knuckles turned white. "- I know who you were with."

Her voice wavered slightly but with her back turned towards him, he couldn't read her face.

"Peyton, I'm so sorry…"

"Yeah." It was as much a word as it was a sigh.

"Listen…"

"No, Lucas. You listen." She was breathing heavily but she did not turn around. "I want you to be honest. Just this once. Can you do that?"

He swallowed. "Yes." It was merely a whisper.

"Do you love me?" _'No pretence, just answer, please.' _He heard the silent prayer behind her words. It was not a begging for pity it was an informal question.

_Yes_.

He loved her. And she was his family. A part of his heart would always belong to Peyton.

"You know that."

Hidden from Lucas' stare, Peyton let silent tears run down her cheeks. She cried because she was relieved and she cried because she was ashamed and hurt.

And she cried also because she loved him.

Upstairs lay their daughter and here, downstairs, she had to make a decision. To keep her family together, swallow her pride and forgive him or to send him away.

But he _had_ said he loved her. _You know that_, he had said. And yes, she knew. She knew alright.

"Good." Her shoulders fell down an inch. "Was that the only time?"

"Yes." Lucas felt lump in his throat grew heavier.

"Is it gonna happen again?"

"No." The word pressed through his vocal chords, came out somewhat strangled and reverberated coarsely against his skull.

She just had to know one more thing.

"Is it…" Peyton drew a deep breath. "…is it over?"

There was only one answer to this question.

"Yes."

It hung above their heads like a verdict. Of what kind, Lucas didn't know.

She knew he was being honest. And she knew enough. Peyton had made up her mind all those years ago and she was no fool. She had known and had willingly chosen this path. She was not going to leave it now.

"Can you pick up Ellie from school today? I got a 3 o'clock appointment with a client."

He was flabbergasted, had himself prepared for a big blow. Her voice, so business as usual, caught him off guard. "Peyton, shouldn't we be talking about this-"

"You're still my husband, Lucas. And we're still a family." _That's it_.

She said it so matter-of-factly and once she'd spoken the words she knew she meant them. And she knew they'd be okay. Not now, but some time.

They stood there for a moment, silently. Then she brushed past him, towards the bathroom, to wash away the tears she didn't want him to see. He watched her from behind as she walked straight-backed, head high like a queen.

When she came back, she poured him a cup of coffee and they sat together at the kitchen table and Lucas Scott realized with relief that even if he had lost something that night; this morning there still was a thing called redemption.

------------

t.b.c.


	9. The Open Road

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Thank you to everyone who took the time to tell me what especially they liked and what they didn't like. This chapter is really about Brooke finding her way back into normal life after what happened with Lucas. But for all you B/L deprived people out there (I know, me too) there'll be a little candy in the middle of it (watch out for the flashback…

Thank you Tej for your help and assurance. This was a hard chapter to write and you gave me the confidence to post this.

Thank you Sarah for being just Sarah. You are crazy and I am crazy and together we keep each other sane.

This one is for all the B/L girls. I'm sorry you had to wait, but it's extra long!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, so don't sue. I own neither the quotes in this chapter nor any of the characters, except Ellie who you guys haven't seen much of lol and this new character by the name of Sarah. If you guys are from the B/L thread you might see some resemblance with a good friend of mine...chuckles. Oh and I made _Confessions of a Chocaholic_ up. If there is a book by that name, I don't own it either.

Flashbacks are as always in _Italics_.

If you could let me know what you think, good and bad, constructive criticism is always appreciated.

On to the good stuff…

* * *

**9. The Open Road**

**"He who chooses the beginning of a road chooses the place it leads to. It is the means that determine the end. "  
- _Harry Emerson Fosdick_**

**"Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through."  
_- Wislawa Szymborska_**

_Los Angeles, California, February 2017_

"Sorry!"

Brooke rushed towards her upset-looking boss ready to give an out-of-breath apology. It was the afternoon rush, she was twenty minutes late for her shift and even at best times, Harriet's mood could only be described as pretty grumpy.

Her presence was only acknowledged by a bad tempered bellow of: "I don't want to hear your excuses; just grab a tray and go!"

_Ahh_. Bad mood and stress had probably caused Harriet to go into manager auto- pilot, which was fine with Brooke. She knew she'd get her rant later when her boss would actually have time for telling off her employees but she was glad for small mercies. She ran towards staff room, thrusting the door open with her shoulder while trying to peel off her evil, resisting jacket. Once inside, Brooke put on her uniform and pulled her hair out of her face with the help of an elastic band she had managed to retrieve from the depths of her handbag.

It was a Ferragamo model from two seasons ago, when she had still had a job with the benefit of swiping goodies and giveaways like handbags, sunglasses or even an entire gown. Back when she had still worked as a personal shopper and stylist for one of the most prestigious agencies in L.A. Back when she had still been off her face for most of the time she was awake.

No, designer goodies were a little out of reach now, what with her small salary from _The Coffee and the Bean_. It wasn't much, but it got her by. And it meant that she was around normal people, which she was grateful for.

Even if it was grumpy Harriet.

Brooke adjusted her vest with the golden bean logo stitched on the front, threw her bag into her locker and stepped out of the staff room. She made her rounds as usual and for the next two hours she was busy making coffee, wiping tables and countertops, collecting empty dishes, refilling sugar dispenser and tending to other small matters. After a while, business began to slow down and Brooke found a moment to plop down into one of the big, velvety love chairs. She blew the bangs out of her face and allowed herself to close her eyes.

_Heaven._

"Ahem." She was cruelly ripped out of her daydream when she heard someone clear their throat.

Crap. Harriet had found her. On the clock but obviously _not working_. This was about to get ugly.

But when Brooke opened her eyes, she was surprised to not find her angry boss but a more friendly, albeit familiar face.

"Sarah!"

She got up and pulled the other woman into a hug and was greeted just as warmly.

"Brooke! Ahh it's so good to see you! I was just walking down Cooper and I thought I'd pop in to see if you were here."

When she saw her friend's sympathetic smile, Brooke immediately felt better. Sarah was one of the few people in L.A. that had stuck with her through the last few months. When she had come to the city eight years ago, the tall woman with the copper hair and contagious smile had lived next door to her and they had quickly forged a bond. On first appearance the two women didn't seem to have a lot in common. Sarah was much more down-to-earth than Brooke, much calmer and liked L.A. rather for its good theatres and museums than its nightclubs, bars or boutiques, but they did a lot of things together.

In a city full of crazy people, it had been a relief for Brooke to have someone normal to do normal stuff with. Hang out with. It was Sarah she called when she had a bad day, it was Sarah who she spent her lazy nights with, sitting on the couch, watching Prison Break reruns, eating ice cream and painting each others toe nails. They shared a love for Wentworth Miller, Joshua Jackson and caramel filled doughnuts and for Brooke, that made them best friends.

But most of all it had been Sarah who had helped her after she had left fashion industry and who had had her back. And if there was one thing Brooke appreciated in a friend, it was that. Deeply in thought, her friend's voice ripped her out of her stupor.

"Are you okay, Brooke? You look tired. Bad day?"

"Harriet is in one of her moods." Brooke scrunched her nose. "That woman is PMSing 24/7."

"Pfft. Superiors. They are the text book definition of royal pain in the ass."

"Trouble with the bosses?" Brooke asked empathically.

Sarah shrugged. "Nah. It just sucks that in order to become a partner myself I have to suck up to the existing partners. Sometimes I want to just tell them to fuck off."

Brooke laughed but she knew Sarah was only joking. Her friend loved her job as a literary agent; she was ambitious and knew what she wanted. She had slowly worked her way up to the top and was a now a senior agent at _Lieberman & Johnson_, one of the most prestigious author representing agencies on the west coast. She had several bestselling writers under contract and could afford much more than the one bedroom apartment she had lived in when Brooke had first met her.

Sarah was also the only one who knew what had happened last summer with Lucas at the reunion. She hadn't judged her but Brooke had seen the weariness in her eyes, the same sense of guilt Brooke had felt ever since.

"Well your bosses can't be as bad as mine."

They looked over to see Harriet having a go at the newbie for selling a costumer decaf instead of the normal stuff.

Sarah chuckled. "Seems like it. How about dinner at my place? Tonight? Nothing than a little Sarah to cheer you up."

"You're my friend and I love you but…," Brooke smiled wickedly, "you can't cook."

The red head shrugged. "Substitute the word 'dinner' with a take out from the Wong Brothers. Same difference."

"What about Michael?" Sarah's boyfriend lived with her and they were every inch the happily married couple. Apart from being married, of course. Brooke got on very well with both of them, especially now, since they had left the sickly-sweet phase.

"He's watching the lame game with his lame friends tonight and I'll be lonely."

"So I'm just a fill in?" Brooke fake pouted while preparing Sarah her tall non-fat caramel latte.

"Nah, darling. Don't be silly. You know I love you."

"I don't know. I would have to have a look at my _extremely busy_ schedule first. "

Sarah picked up her belongings and grabbed the coffee from Brooke's hands.

"Be there at seven," she began walking towards the door, talking over her shoulder.

"Why seven?"

"'Dawson's Creek' marathon starts at eight and I can't take whiny Joey without you. Oh, and bring some chocolate!"

* * *

"There you are!" Brooke was pulled into the apartment by a flustered looking Sarah clad in only a bathrobe. "Can you go into the living room and wait there? You know where the remote is and there's money for the take out guy on the coffee table. I just need to shower real quick!" 

Brooke looked surprised. "Why? We're not going out, are we?"

"No, I'm just all sweaty."

"It's 50 degrees."

"So?"

"It's cold outside. How did you get all sweaty? You never work out."

"I didn't. Not like that anyway." Sarah blushed and Michael came into the room, buttoning his shirt up.

"Oh, hi Brooke! You're here already. How's it going?"

"Hi." Brooke darted her eyes from one to the other, a wicked smile forming on her face. "Nothing than a little cardio before the football, right Mike?"

Michael looked confused. "Um, yeah, sure. Well I better get going."

He looked at Sarah who was trying hard not to laugh.

"You do that. See you later, babe."

"You girls have fun." He kissed her goodbye and waved towards Brooke and then he was gone.

The second the door was closed both women broke out in fits of giggles and Sarah slapped Brooke on the shoulder.

"Cardio? You had him all confused!"

"Come on, he could have caught on that! And what about you? Marking your territory before he leaves the house?"

"What? No!" Sarah tried to act all innocent and failed miserably because her facial expression was more on the smug side.

Brooke slapped her on her behind. "Go and shower, you saucy minx!"

"That okay with you?"

"Sure. I know where everything is."

"Okay. See you in ten."

When Sarah was gone, Brooke walked into the living room. Upon seeing the cluttered coffee table, she shook her head. Tidiness wasn't really one of Sarah's or Michael's qualities. Scattered throughout the small but cozy living room were several manuscripts and other paper work.

Brooke plopped down on the couch and tried to find the remote under the mass off paper. Then a title caught her eye.

"Confessions of a Chocaholic" by Miranda Holland.

Probably one of those manuscripts Sarah got send everyday by some aspiring writer in hope she would represent him and get it published. She looked towards the bathroom door. Sarah would surely take another 20 min and she had to wait for the take out guy so… Brooke opened the manuscript and started reading.

When Sarah came back later she found her friend not as expected in front of the T.V. but deeply engrossed in one of the manuscripts she got all the time. The kind that would end up in the junk sooner or later. She did not actually read all the stuff sent to her, she had readers for that. The agents didn't have time to do that. But whenever a reader found something more promising, it would get forwarded to her. Reading and deciding if these selected manuscripts really had the potential to become a selling book was her job.

"What are you reading?"

Brooke looked up from the page, finding her friend standing there, a bemused expression on her face.

"What?" She challenged.

Sarah shrugged. "Nothing. It's just…I don't think I've ever actually _seen_ you read."

"That's not true! I read all the time!"

This comment earned Brooke a condescending pat on the head from her friend. "Vogue and In Touch doesn't really count."

"Whatever." Brooke tried to act insulted but failed. "This is very good though," she said, pointing at the bulk of pages in her lap.

"Is it?" Sarah sat down next to Brooke on the couch and flipped the manuscript over to read the title.

She scrunched up her nose, the freckles twisting into a frown.

"Brooke, that's total chick-lit!"

"So?"

"It's pure escapism." Sarah elaborated. "If you consider books food, this is the candy junk food kind of version of literature. _Lieberman & Johnson_ is more interested in high brow, artsy stuff."

Brooke scrunched up her nose in disgust. "You mean the kind of books critics love-" Sarah nodded. "- but no one buys? I mean, I know you're all I'm representing the guy who won the Poolacer Price-"

"Pulitzer Price," Sarah corrected.

"Whatever. I don't know a lot about literature, but I know a thing or two about selling. See this," she waved with the manuscript, "is the kind of thing that will sell like gold dust. It's _Sex and the City _meets _Bridget Jones _meets _Cinderella_. It's this post-feminist modern crap 'every girl deserves a knight in shining armour.' It's fun and it's _such_ a light read that even I would pick it up."

Sarah laughed. "Did you just say post-feminism?"

Brooke shrugged. "I might have paid attention once or twice in that sociology class."

Sarah ran her fingers through her long copper hair and stared long and hard at her friend.

"You know, maybe you're right. As it happens at the latest meeting, the partners said something about moving into mass market and winning over more female orientated clients. Young, professional lonely single women are the fastest growing consumer group…"

"You mean women like me?"

"Oh not women like you, Brooke! I mean the kind of women who think everything will work out as soon as they've found Mr. Right."

Brooke smiled sadly. She had learned that lesson a long time ago, learned that it wasn't enough to love and be loved back, that it took a whole lot more than that.

"No, I'm definitely not one of those."

"_I love you."_

_The words blurt out of her on their own accord, ripping away her last guard. He had hurt her, he had betrayed her, and so had she but in that moment, it didn't matter. All she could think about was how much she loved that boy standing in front of her, how much grace and beauty he had in that single moment where he had chosen to rise above himself and forgive her._

_He had said that it was ok. She wasn't sure how it could be but he had said it._

_He found her eyes and stared at her. Caught off guard by her openness, boldness he looked surprised, a little shocked even. When he answered it was a kind of wonder for Brooke, even more so than the fact that he forgave her. She knew she'd never forget this moment when he said those three words to her; the words which aeons of bad poetry and abuse and false romance have worn out but which still haven't lost all their magic. And he said them with a voice that made it clear he had thought his sentiment had been self-evident all along. That he was only speaking out the obvious._

"_I love you too."_

_The words fell and with their sincerity they were like a promise, like a contract. The universe shrunk and condensed until it was only the two of them; nothing would ever take that moment from her._

_She saw the tears in his eyes and he stepped closer and touched her cheek, only ever so slightly. _

"_Pretty girl."_

_In his face was nothing but certainty._

_Somewhere deep inside her chest, a weight lifted. It was something buried and hidden and denied and it opened and unfolded its wings and came to the surface and left her throat as a sob. He pulled her towards her and she moved into him and then she cried a little more but it didn't matter because her salty tears ran down her cheeks and mingled with his and she could taste them on his lips._

_Brooke was not a religious person but when he kissed her she founds his words to be true, as if her sins were just washing away by his grace and absolution. Kissing him there in that moment she realized forgiveness for Lucas Scott was not an abstract concept. Being with him, she could grasp it; she could taste its sweet honey on his lips and feel it under her fingers. _

"Hey? You okay?" Sarah inquired worriedly. "You look like you were a thousand miles away."

She had stopped skimming through the manuscript to find Brooke completely lost in thought.

"Um yeah," Brooke answered, shaking off the memories.

Sarah still looked a little concerned. "You sure?"

Brooke smiled. The girl who had believed in love as her salvation was long gone. She had grown up. "It's alright, I was just thinking. So how about that 'Dawson's Creek' marathon? Nothing like a little teen drama to forget your own!"

* * *

A week later, a good fifteen minutes into a _Lost _rerun, Brooke's phone rang. As she was ripped out of admiring Matthew Fox shirtless, (seriously, how hot could a 40-something guy get?) her voice was a little more than cranky. That and she figured it was probably Harriet, calling her to do an extra shift. 

"What?"

"Brooke!"

"Sarah?"

"Okay, first of all, you sound all kinds of rude and secondly…Brooke, oh my god, I have _amazing_ news!"

"Michael proposed to you?"

"What? No-"

"Cause if it isn't something drastic and major like he proposed to you or your long lost twin has come to town then I'd really rather go back to watching _Lost_ than…"

"Did he say anything to you?"

"What? Who?"

"Michael! Does he want to propose to me?" Sarah's usually medium pitched voice turned up a few notches. "Oh my god, have you like bought a ring together and you know that he's going to do it and that's why you asked and now he's chickening out or he's made up his mind or-"

"Sarah!" Brooke cut in. "Sarah, my friend, sunshine of my life, calm down for Christ's sake! No, Michael hasn't said anything to me and we haven't gone out and bought you a ring but I'm sure he loves you and you're going to get married eventually, okay? So, I love you and I'd love to talk to you but can I just call you back in an hour? _Lost_ is on and…"

"No, no, wait Brooke! There's really something I have to tell you, like _now_!"

Brooke sighed. Sarah wasn't to be stopped and the sooner she gave in, the sooner the conversation would be over.

"Ok, what is it? But I swear to you Sarah, if it's only something like you think you've seen Adam Brody on Sunset again, I swear, I'm going to kill you!"

"Brooke, do you honestly think I'd call you during _Lost_ for something like that? No, this is way better! I got you a job!"

"What? Hun, I already have a job."

"A job that you _hate_."

Brooke couldn't argue with that, so she kept silent, waiting for Sarah to elaborate.

"Well on Monday I went straight to Henry Johnson at the agency and pitched this manuscript to him, you remember? He said I could give it a try and see if I could get a publisher to buy it. So I sent it to several editors I thought might be interested in it and waited for their offers. Guess what?"

"What?" Brooke was getting a little excited. "Did you sell it?"

She didn't really know all the details about Sarah's work but she knew that as an agent, her job was to sell the work of an author at the highest possible price to a publisher who would then in turn make it into a book. A percentage of the sale went to Sarah as payment for representing the author. The higher she sold something, the more money she got herself.

"Not only did I sell it Brooke." Sarah's voice was triumphant. "Guess for how much!"

"Um, I don't know? Thirty thousand?" Brooke new that most books sold for a lot less and then the agency and author had in turn to hope for the royalties. The better deals closed around five figures, but they were rare.

"I sold this baby for 1.1 million dollars! That is the highest deal anyone has been able to close at the agency this year! You might have just made me a partner, Brooke!"

Brooke was speechless.

"Brooke, aren't you going to say something? This is huge! And you know what I realized? You got that killer instinct. You may not be the literary type but you recognize a best selling product when you see one."

"You think?"

"Brooke, I've known you for years now, we've lived together. You are just one of those people who recognize trends before others do. Which is exactly what I told David by the way."

"Who is David?"

"Remember that dark haired Brit from our Christmas party last year? The one who insisted on dancing with you? He's our junior partner. He offered you a job!"

Brooke vaguely remembered a normal sized man in his early forties with a contagious smile and a very cute accent.

"I don't know. _Me_ working at a _literary agency_?"

"Brooke, I know it sounds weird at first but think about it! The firm really wants to go more into the popular sector with a focus on contemporary women novels. You'd be perfect! You know trends; you know the tastes of women between 18 and 35. You've been buying and selling for that age group for years, only the product will be a different one!"

Brooke was starting to get a little excited, too. She had hoped to find something where she could bring in her natural talents, the coffee shop was only something to make ends meet. But another job with the fashion industry was out of the question. The lifestyle and the people would break her again. Maybe this was an option? Maybe Sarah was right? She could sell, right? She could convince people of a product, it's what she had done for years. She could organize; she had a knack for trends and upcoming fashions.

"So, what would I do? Would I be an agent, like you?"

"You'd start as a reader. But basically you'd be some agents' assistant. You'd look through potential manuscripts and if something is promising, you give it in the hands of an agent and he'd close the deal. But if it turns out you're good at the job you can become an agent and even partner later on. I started as a reader, too."

Brooke was quiet for a moment. Sarah grew a little anxious on the other end of the line.

"Brooke? You don't have to do it but they'd pay better than your current job and I know you're not really into reading all that much but it wouldn't be highbrow material. You'd also be involved in the pitching work, trying to sell certain books to certain publishers. It's really all about finding the right product and making it look good."

Brooke choked back the tears. "Thank you Sarah. Thank you so much for everything you've done. Of course I'll take it."

"Don't thank me, chica. This was all you. When I told them you'd discovered _Confessions of a Chocaholic_ first, they wanted you. Conveniently one of our readers just left so you could start next week."

Now Brooke smiled. "I'd like that."

------

t.b.c.


	10. Ships That Pass In The Night

**Author's note:**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Thank you to everyone who took the time to tell me what especially they liked and what they didn't like. Thank you Tej for your help and assurance. This was a hard chapter to write and you gave me the confidence to post this.

Thank you Sarah for being just Sarah. You are crazy and I am crazy and together we keep each other sane.

This one is for all the B/L girls. I'm sorry you had to wait, but it's extra long!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, so don't sue. I own neither the quotes in this chapter nor any of the characters, except Ellie who you guys haven't seen much of lol and this new character by the name of Sarah. If you guys are from the B/L thread you might see some resemblance with a good friend of mine...chuckles. Oh and for you movie geeks, you might recognize one line in this chapter I don't wanna take credit for. It is taken from this little movie called Brokeback Mountain. Don't own either. A girl can only dream.

If you could let me know what you think, good and bad, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Reviews are love.

* * *

**10. Ships That Pass In The Night**

**"Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence."**

**_  
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_**

_Los Angeles, December 2017_

"Knock- knock."

Brooke looked up from her computer screen to see David standing on the threshold to her office. She forced a smile, but only because it was him.

Today had been all kinds of suck.

"Hey."

The tone in her voice wasn't lost on him.

"Whoa. Cut back on the enthusiasm, woman!" With a boyish ease for a man of his age, David plopped down on her couch. "Everything okay?"

Brooke furrowed her brows. "Yeah, yeah I'm okay," she replied distractedly and gestured towards the screen. "It's just Lauren Greenbaum. I can't seem to find a publisher for her."

He pursed his lips in mock surprise. "Brooke Davis not able to close a deal? Say it ain't so." She knew that the fake slang paired with the clipped tones of his British accent was intended to make her smile and on any other day it would have worked.

"Stop it." Normally, Brooke very much enjoyed the banter and innuendo with David, even though he was a good ten years older than her. But not today. She hadn't achieved a high price in quite a while now and it unsettled her. She was _this close_ to being considered as the next partner (Kurt Barrett was about to retire, talking of golf courses incessantly), but she needed a hit.

David, realizing his usual antics wouldn't cheer her up, tried a more serious and practical approach.

"What kind of novel is it? The usual bored and desperatehousewife writing about the horrors of single life?" David didn't really like chick-lit. He liked selling though, so it came with the territory to have some popular fiction women writers under contract.

She rolled her eyes at his snobbishness. "No, actually it isn't. It's the kind of book the critics would _love_. The kind even you might like." He smiled at the condescending tone in her voice. He knew she hated the pretentiousness of a lot of literature.

"I thought you didn't sell those, Brooke." She looked up to see the sly grin on his face and couldn't help but smile back, genuinely this time. David was not all that good looking, at least not in the L.A. kind of way. Sure he was attractive but it wasn't really something in his physique or face. On first appearance he was an average guy, neither especially tall nor especially slim. Yet he still had all the girls in the office pining away for him. Initially, Brooke hadn't been able to put her finger on it, but then she had spent more and more time with him and had come to realize that it was probably his kindness and his wit. David was charming and intelligent and he knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid of women who knew it, too.

And then of course there was his accent.

Now Brooke looked at him, trying to find the words to explain what made this book great in her eyes.

"It's not a boring novel if that's what you mean. It is kind of playing with the whole chick lit genre you know?"

"Okay, pitch it to me." David got up from the couch and sat down on the edge of her desk. It was this little ritual they had. Back in the day when Brooke had first started as a reader at Lieberman & Johnson, David had been sort of her mentor. He had been the first to realize what potential she really had, he had been the one to teach her the basics of the business and encouraged her to go with her gut feeling. He had also cheered her up when she'd thought she couldn't make it.

He believed in her. And when she had trouble selling something, he'd always told her to pitch the idea to him. In David's words, if Brooke could convince him to buy a chick lit novel, she could convince anyone.

"Sure." She got up from her own seat, straightened her pencil skirt and walked across the room. "Ok." She took a deep breath and David held back a chuckle when she seemed to grow a few inches. "This book is an unusual choice, a brave choice for a publisher. It's something bold and new and that's why it is the right book to be published at your house.

It's the intriguing story of a bunch of strangers living in the same city, discovering they're somehow connected. It's the story of a lost generation who learns to believe in dreams and wonders and fairytales again.

It has layers. It makes fun of the whole chick lit genre, in this post modern, funny way. It's full of pop culture reference. It's _Lost_ meets _Bridget Jones_ meets _Six Degrees of Separation_. It has mystery, romance, comedy, tragedy. But most of all it is sassy and fun. It's taking up current trends of nostalgia, bringing back that old feel of forties screwball comedies, the witty comebacks, the dialogue oozing from the page. It feels warm and good, like home cooked meals or hot chocolate on a cold winter night."

David watched Brooke, her animated face, her expressions, the sparkle in her eyes. She accompanied her words with gestures as enigmatic and energetic as her voice.

This was what she was born to do, inspire other people, to excite them, to draw them in. She knew what they wanted to hear.

"I'd buy it."

"Really?" Now that she had stopped pitching, she deflated a little, her mouth turning into that dimpled smile that would be his undoing.

"Really." He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Well I was pretty awesome, wasn't I?" She tilted her head to the side and her grin turned cocky. He shook his head and chuckled.

"You were. Now come on, Davis, I'll take you out to lunch and then you're going to call those publishers and tell them exactly what you told me."

* * *

Forty minutes later Brooke wiped up the last bit of creamy sauce with some bread and then looked up from her plate only to find David's eyes on her. 

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, what is it?" She took a sip from her Chardonnay, her eyes still fixed on his. He smiled playfully.

"It's just- I'm amazed some women in this city actually still eat."

She smiled and shrugged, almost apologetically.

"I know. This kind of food would have been a total no go while I was still working with Neiman Marcus." She had weighed a good 20 pounds less then, way under the healthy limit for her height. "But then most of the girls there puked their guts out after lunch."

David was a little shocked. "Who did? The models?"

"Everyone. It was an all time competition. I had this girl working in my department and she went like a week on cotton balls." He looked confused. "You know, to still the hunger they eat cotton balls drenched with orange juice."

"That's _vile_."

"Yup. One of the many perks," Brooke sarcastically kinked her eyebrow. "Guess I don't fit in there anymore. _Literally_."

When she had first started to work in fashion she had tried to not let it get to her but eventually the pressure became too much. So much that she too had wondered if she could lose another size, maybe just drop a meal once in a while.

Back in high school she had never worried about her weight but this was L.A., a whole city full of successful, extremely skinny people. And the skinnier the more successful you were.

She looked down at her pencil skirt and pin striped blouse, hugging her Now she was back to her normal weight. She was curvier than she had been as a teenager but she liked it. Most of the time.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was gentle and probing as if testing the waters.

"Sure."

"Why did you leave fashion, Brooke?"

She looked up into his grey eyes.

"I mean, you don't have to tell me or anything but-"

She gripped her wineglass for support. She had left this life behind almost two years ago but when she closed her eyes she could still smell the desperation, could still taste the fear of getting sucked in. Brooke had sworn to herself that she would never go back to it; to a life of deadlines and personal scrutiny, to a life where you had to be perfect to stay afloat, where people took all sorts of substances to chase something that wasn't even real. She had been one of those people. And right there in that moment the person she had used to be wasn't locked as far away as usual. She had her way of knocking once in a while.

She shook off the thoughts and looked up to see worry marked on David's face.

"Brooke I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked-"

"No, it's ok." She was quick to assure him. "It was…being there… it wasn't just a job you know? You learn pretty quickly that in order to survive you have to learn their ways or-" she paused, "or they make you. The make you into what the need you to be."

_And in the process, they destroy your self esteem_, she thought.

"I'm still sorry."

She shrugged. "Don't be. I left. It's ok now."

David, sensing her unease reached out for her hand on the white table cloth. When he touched her his palm on her hand felt so sturdy and reliable and utterly male.

"You're pretty amazing you know that?"

Suddenly the air was thick and heavy. She tried to break the tension by laughing it off. She was more than a little embarrassed. This was her boss, the one man she wanted to take her seriously.

"Stop it."

She attempted to pull her hand back but he didn't let her. It wasn't forceful, just gentle determination. He was nothing like Lucas and yet in that moment, he reminded her of him.

"No, I mean it." His voice was soft and earnest and she could feel his thumb drawing reassuring circles on the inside of her palm. "I can still remember the day when you first came into the office – all serious business in your suit and the high heels and you walked the floors like you owned the place," he chuckled. "Like a goddess."

She was surprised. "But you always used to tease me about it!"

Brooke could still see him standing in the hallway, grinning slyly. Whenever she had passed him between offices, her heels (she always wore heels) clicking on the dark marble, he had pressed himself against the wall in overdramatic fashion, feigning to be blown away by her presence. "Watch out, _the bombshell's walking_," he had mock-gasped, much to the delight of all her co workers.

"Brooke, that's because you looked so glorious! All the other girls in the office they are just blank and boring but you're a phenomenon."

She searched his eyes to see if he was still joking and was blown away by the seriousness in them. He had never hidden the fact that he liked her and was fond of her but this was different. He cleared his throat, squeezed her hand and then pulled away.

_Damn you Davis, this is your boss. _

Brooke picked up her glass and drank again, the cool white wine running smoothly down her throat calming her somewhat. Then David smiled again and suddenly she wasn't so sure if the warmth in the pit of her belly was all due to the Chardonnay.

* * *

_Tree Hill, December 2017 _

When Lucas opened the front door it jammed on a large brown envelope that lay among the other mail in the hallway. He cursed under his breath, pulled it out from under the door and stepped into the eerily quiet house. He felt slightly annoyed that no one in the family had taken the time to gather the mail since he had left at seven this morning and it took him a moment to realize that both of them had not been home yet. Peyton was still at a meeting and Ellie was with his mom for the night.

Lucas sighed.

He hated coming home to an empty, dark house.

Walking down towards the kitchen he flicked on all the lights and retrieved a chilled beer from the fridge. He drank it in long, thirsty gulps, feeling the tension of the day ease a little. With a sigh he sat down at the kitchen table and ran a hand over his neatly cropped hair.

And then he caught sight of the paper.

* * *

"I'm home," Peyton shouted from the front door, shutting it with a well-placed kick. 

"Lucas?" She walked down the hallway into the kitchen. "I brought some take out from the café, I'm starving. You'd think they'd feed us at these late meet-"

She stopped in her tracks when she spotted her husband standing next to the sink, letter in his hand.

"What is this?" Lucas' voice was remorseful.

Peyton's stomach clenched and she sighed. "Look, I wanted to tell you but with the way things are at the office and how swamped you were over at the garage there was never the right time…"

He held the letter out to her, and she took it from him.

"This is a job offer."

"It's a promotion. A reward for all the hard work I've put into the firm."

"But you already have a job."

Peyton snorted. He couldn't be serious could he? "As Drummond's assistant. I could be head of department in Chicago."

He grimaced. "Peyton, you are not honestly considering…"

The way he said it, the fact that he didn't even ask, that he merely stated what was obvious for him made her angry.

"It's a lot of money and it's a hell of a lot more responsibility than I have now! It's more than I could wish for with my kind of education. I don't have a degree, Lucas! I worked so hard to get where I am, so now to get this kind of opportunity-"

She hated how her tone had become all defensive. She hadn't done anything wrong.

"It's in _Chicago_."

"You act like it's the end of the world."

"It's. in. Chicago."

Peyton sighed. Lucas sat down at the kitchen table and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm glad for you and it's a great thing that you were offered this but you're going to have to tell them no."

"And why do I have to do that exactly?" He didn't hear the threat in her voice.

"Because… our life is here. My business is here. My mother is here."

"Did it ever occur to you that we could move? That we could start over? That you could work somewhere else? Why is your career more important than mine, Lucas? Wasn't it you who always wanted to get out of Tree Hill? You never wanted to stay here for the rest of your life!"

"Well things change, okay? And it's not that easy. Now we're here, now this is our home. And don't act as if you're the only one who had to sacrifice dreams for this. I gave up a career too, you know? I gave up academics to support this family. I gave up college because _you_ were pregnant!"

Her expression turned to stone. When she spoke again her voice was cold and sniping.

"Funny, I thought you gave up college because you wanted to be with me. "

And with that, she left the room.

Later that night Lucas laid on the bed in the guest room, wondering where it all had gone wrong, wondering when life had become such a mess. And he wondered when or if it would ever be ok again.

And then for the first time in a long, long while he let himself think about Brooke. He wondered how she was and who she might be with and if she was happy. And he hoped that she was because she had not been when he had last seen her.

It had been the summer after the reunion, the summer Larry had taken Ellie and Peyton to visit Derek on his new base in France. It had been the summer he had gone to see her in L.A.

"_Lucas?"_

_She stood in the doorway to her apartment. It was a lot less glamorous than in his imagination but _she_ looked the same. He couldn't believe that she was right in front of him after it had taken him about twenty minutes to work up the courage to knock on her door. _

"_What are you doing here?" Her voice raised a few notches, in tandem with her anger. She couldn't believe the cheek of him. How could he just show up at her doorstep without as much as a call?_

"_My Mom gave me the address and-" He extended a hand with a small package. Like a peace offering. "I came to bring you this."_

_She ran an annoyed hand through her hair and ignored the parcel. _

"_But- but how?" Her eyes narrowed to suspecting slits. "Does she know you're here?"_

_She didn't have to say the name for Lucas to know who she meant."Larry took her and Ellie on a grand tour through Europe. They are visiting Derek." She nodded. He had sort of answered her question by not answering it. "So, are you…going let me in?"_

_She shook her head. "Look, I'm not sure this is a good idea–"_

"_Brooke, I drove 3000 miles to see you, and now you're not even going let me in?" He touched her arm and she flinched as if he had burnt her. Lucas knew he came across as desperate but he didn't care. "I wanted you to have this," he cleared his throat. "I- I needed you to have this."_

_He handed her the small parcel. She untied the string and un-wrapped the brown paper. Her eyes softened a little. _

"_Come in."_

_Of course she had known why he was there. And he had known it too. She wondered why after all this time it still seemed as if she had a choice when it came to Lucas Scott. Letting him in was the logic conclusion. Letting him in was just giving into the inevitable. _

_So they went inside and she made some coffee and poured him a cup to keep her hands occupied, but they shook a little when she touched the mug and they shook until he stilled them with his own. They were kissing before she could add the sugar (she wasn't even sure if that was how he still had his coffee) and they didn't leave her bedroom before sundown when the coffee had already turned cold._

_A few hours later, Brooke woke up to the sound of his cell phone. She lay on her side pretending to be asleep when he answered it and talked to his ten year old daughter. She fought the waves of nausea engulfing her when he told Ellie that he loved and missed her._

_And then he told her to be good for Mommy, and she made it just in time for the toilet bowl._

_Lucas quickly finished the call and followed Brooke into the small bathroom. He found her hunched over the sink, rinsing her mouth. She looked up and there under the harsh, fluorescent bulb she didn't look quite as immaculate. The light was shining through her cracks and tears, tell tales of a woman that was broken. He wondered if that had been his doing. If those dark circles, the tiny blood vessels shining through the thin worn skin, her hollow eyes, her slumped posture, if that was him._

"_We have to stop this." Brooke looked at him through the mirror. "I mean, look at me. I used to be…" Proud? Whole? Her unfinished words hung in the air, pulling out connotations of their own. She sighed and pushed her hair out of her face, her nostrils shivering slightly with the breath she took in again. "I used to be able to look into the mirror without wanting to throw up."_

"_Brooke, you know – you _know_ I love you." He knew she could hear the begging in his voice. _

"_Yes," she said. It sounded like a verdict. "But you also love her. And I can't."_

"_Brooke_, please_." Lucas reached out to her, wanting to touch her, to keep her there, in this place, in this moment. If he didn't, she'd be gone. _

_He was almost surprised to find her skin warn and yielding underneath his fingers. He had expected it to be as cold as her voice and her demeanour. _

"_Lucas, why did you even come to L.A.?"_

_She wished he hadn't touched her. She wished he hadn't come here. It made everything so much more complicated. She had only just gotten her life together again. She had a new job. She had a shot at a new life but she had to get out before she would lose all respect for herself. Before she'd lose all respect for him. She only hoped she'd have the courage to do so._

"_No, Lucas."_

"_But this…this is all we have. Do you really want to give that up? Give _us _up? It's all we can have."_

_She spun around, meeting his eyes directly. Her stare was no longer empty but filled with anger, rage even. It was as if she grew a few inches in mere seconds, the energy putting her out of proportion, making her larger than life. _

_Brooke felt the force of her own disappointment, her anger rising. It felt hot and steady and good. It made her feel alive._

"_How can you say that? We could have had so much more!" It was an accusation and she was getting in his face and it felt oh-so-good. "We could have been happy! We could have…you could've -"_

"_Brooke, it's not that easy –" _

_Why was he always so damn resigned? He acted as if it wasn't even a decision to make and that riled her up to no end._

"_Is that so? Or do you simply don't want it to be? You pretend there is no choice when you made that decision years ago! You always had a choice, Lucas! You still have it. You just don't realize." She grabbed the edge of the sink, hoping it would steady her and her voice. "Now, I have made my choice, that's true. But it doesn't mean I have to live with it for the rest of my life. I'm making a choice again, Lucas." Brooke looked into his shocked face. She just hoped her words would shake him out of his stupor. "And you know what? It's because I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired! I'm tired of hiding this, hiding us! I'm tired of leading half the life I deserve! You want us to continue this shabby act? You want this to become a habit? A weekend or two here or there? It's not enough." _

_She took a deep breath, looking into his eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable blow._

_If it hadn't been so damn sad, she would have laughed about how cliché it all was. Instead, she choked back a dry sob. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "But most of all, I'm tired of wanting you so damn much." _

_He looked at her and she blinked and he knew the rage was keeping her from crying. He saw the burning need in her eyes and he held his hand out, put it against her cheek. She leaned ever so slightly against his touch and then he grabbed her and kissed her like a drowning man and then he took her, hard and fast, right there against the bathroom wall. It was the act of two people too much in need of each other to take their time. And it also was an act of final mercy. He stifled her cries with his mouth, trying to remember her taste, the feel of her against his skin. _

_They satisfied a salvage demand for human contact, for warmth and intimacy, clinging to each other like strange creatures in a deep dark sea. _

_Afterwards she sat on the edge of the stained bath tub, the smoke of her cigarette pooling around her in heavy tendrils. _

_He didn't say 'I love you' because it wasn't needed and it wouldn't have been enough. Her face looked younger and reckless through the blurred haze, her jaw a single smooth set line flowing into a chin pinched out stubbornly. A closer look would have revealed that it was quivering with the need to repress tears she had long since cried, but her voice, her voice was free of any emotion._

"_I wish I knew how to quit you." _

_And she just prayed to whatever God out there that he would give her the strength to do it._

"Lucas." He turned his head to find a dark figure standing in the doorway. It was Peyton. She hadn't switched on the lights so he could not really make out her face with the night around them but it was easier that way. "I think we should talk."

He nodded. She deserved more than this. Brooke had started a new life; at least he hoped she had. And it was time to do the same. He had a wife and a daughter and it was a wonder he hadn't already lost them. He couldn't bear to lose them. Not now.

"I know. Look Peyton, I'm sorry. I've been thinking… I know I haven't given us enough of a chance. And I'm sorry for that but I really want to try and start over–"

"I want that job." Her voice was steady and composed but he could still hear the traces of sadness.

"Look, it really is a great opportunity. We should consider all our options and all the consequences for you and me and for Ellie and then make the right decision for us. Together, okay?" He heard her sniffle and realized she was crying.

"I'm going to take it. I'm going to move to Chicago and I'm taking Ellie with me."

"What?" He rubbed his temples trying to understand what she was saying. "Look Peyton, it's true, I can work somewhere else. But I'd have to find a job first and sell the body shop and… it takes a lot of planning. It's two in the morning; let's talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

He heard her sob again and got up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her. She hesitated a little but then she hugged him back, clinging to his arms like a person drowning. Lucas kissed her cheek and then rested his head on her hair, breathing in her scent. "Shhh. Everything's going to be okay."

And he knew that he meant it.

She said something but it was muffled because she had her head pressed into the crook of his neck. She moved her face a little, her tear stained cheeks rubbing against his. When she spoke again, he understood her clearly.

"I think I want a divorce."

* * *

t.b.c. 


End file.
